The Ultimate Quiz
by MuggleBeene
Summary: The Next Generation characters were not thrilled with the way things were going that Christmas, so when a Magical Quiz appears everyone decided to take the quiz and follow the advice, meeting up in a year to tell everyone what happened. An Anthology series by the members of the Teachers' Lounge forum based on those internet quizzes everyone takes. Rated M just in case.
1. The Ultimate Quiz - Prologue

**The Ultimate Quiz: Prologue**

For the Next Generation, as the papers called them, it was supposed to be a charmed life. Their parents had helped defeat the biggest threat to magical life since the Cursed Cow Infestestation of 1233 and were international heroes, enabling them to live lives free from war and dark lords. Their time would be so much easier than running for their lives and fearing that their next breath could be their last.

Well, it was easier. But easier didn't always mean fulfilling. Expectations, coddling, condescension...always being treated as a child, being told that they 'just didn't understand' seemed to make a generation of new adults that just never felt like they were adults, that they would never be taken seriously. So, in the spirit of the season they decided that if they lacked direction then maybe, just maybe, they should heed prophecy.

Ok, it wasn't _exactly_ a prophecy. They knew better than to say _that_ word. But when the Wiznet (the magical version of the internet created by some wizard in San Francisco who knew that they could disrupt the current magical paradigm for profits and crazy charmed scooters that everyone thought were so sweet), when the Wiznet published The Ultimate Quiz they made a decision. Wiznet quizzes were dumb, that was a given, and the results they gave were often nonsensical at best, but it was better than nothing. So it was that at Harry Potter's annual Christmas Party that they all snuck away from the 'Olds' and after a few drinks hatched their plan.

Everyone would take the quiz, write down their result and put it in a box, telling no one. Once the results were in the box it would not open until the next Christmas party. Everyone had to follow their quiz results, doing what it told you to do to the best of your understanding and/or abilities; that meant that if your quiz said to go to Peru and become a goblin nanny, congrats; you're a Peruvian goblin nanny. If your result said you'd have 38 kids with someone whose name starts with X, get cracking. Why yes, alcohol was involved. Nobody can contemplate taking those quizzes seriously without booze.

It was quite the year, let me tell you.

 _ **A/N: So what exactly is this, you're asking? This will be an anthology of stories about the Next Generation characters, their quizzes and how those quizzes were turned into the next year of their lives. Joining me on this endeavor will be the members of the Teachers' Lounge forum. If you're wondering how we're going to keep all the continuity straight, there's a very simple answer; we aren't. Each story will be the author's particular story, so if Tonks is alive in one story and dead in the other just roll with it. All authors will be credited if they so choose but I'll be collecting all the stories here in one place for easy reading. How soon will the chapters be up? Uh, the Teachers' Lounge is a place for 'the olds' who write Harry Potter fanfic, so don't expect anything on a regular basis. If we could just write without worrying about those pesky jobs and such it would be much easier. Let's just say "Coming Soon" and leave it at that.**_

 _ **Based on the works of the writers, though, I think everyone is in for a treat.**_


	2. Pick by Mme X

**Pick**

 **by Madame X**

 **Pick a character!**

Scorpius smiled absently at his sister as he sat up to stretch in his seat on the train. It was always like this, from Malfoy to Potter, a train ride. Their parents couldn't overcome the stubborn Floos, their own vestigal reluctance to connect their houses so intimately.

Calista never minded it. Scorpius leaving for Hogwarts had made her desperately lonely, and though she followed him there soon after, she still wanted this time with her only sibling.

There was never a thought of not including Calista after Mrs. Potter saw her sobbing on the platform that first year. And Scorpius had never minded, for Calista didn't require tending. She laughed at the right jokes; she didn't make demands or cause hurt feelings; she could slide into a spot on the couch without notice and make herself scarce when Scorpius and Albus asked if she was caught up on her reading.

Mrs. Potter expected her daughter to be friendly, and Lily was kind enough, but Lily, named for a woman beatified before her death, had assumed that love as her orb and cross, and Calista hadn't been chosen as a lady in waiting.

Calista's mother had wondered about sending her along to Grimmauld Place to be forgotten about by Lily Potter, but Scorpius had sketched the scene of a home buzzing with friends and family over the holidays. She would be welcome, and she wouldn't be lonely.

And Calista wasn't lonely. Even after she had matured enough to bear separation, she still found the homely townhouse attractive, a noisy stage with a rotating cast of characters for her entertainment.

And those lot in turn, expected to see her, serious and composed Calista, who might give away a dry comment or a small smile, and make one feel as though they'd done some work to earn it. Scorpius was like his mother, open and affable, and he managed to stave off the Malfoy legacy with a sheepish shrug, palms open in supplication.

The Hogwarts girls had forgiven him for his unfortunate birth so quickly, it seemed they loved him more for the trouble of it—Scorpius, with his deep blue eyes and his shoulders squared to bear it all with noble grace. For Calista, her beauty had not served her nearly as well as a letter of recommendation. It hadn't mattered that the Black sisters had matriculated from the Hogwarts collective unconscious, for their aloofness settled on Calista's brow and stayed there, stubbornly.

She had said this much to Scorpius once, during a tearful encounter before her first Herbology class. "I don't get to make mistakes."

He had shushed her for being dramatic, which she received as yet another mistake in a day overflowing with them.

And so she decided not to make any more.

Her teenage diary became a virtue journal of planned mindfulness and she bulleted her punishing study times tables, her kind words distributed to each of her fellow Ravenclaws, her miles jogged around the lake.

And when she overheard a Hufflepuff she fancied call her a Death-Eating swot, she added selflessness to virtues practiced like the scales on her harpsichord at the Manor.

She cloistered herself in the midst of a crowded Saturday's Common Room, her corduroys and blouse a pale grey wiping the pink from her cheeks. Molly had asked if she needed a Pepper-Up Potion. Daisy Finch-Fletchley stopped her at the entrance to the castle. "I didn't think ghosts could leave Hogwarts, my Lady."

It wasn't exactly like being brutally murdered and then stalked for eternity, but it did sting a little.

Later, when Daisy complained in the Owlery loudly to everyone within earshot that her mother had the maternal warmth of a Doxy, Calista was the only one to have paused at the exit to say she was sorry.

This was her new avocation: Calista became the Really Good Listener. She agreed to Secret Keeping at such a pace, two Unspeakables were able to present a paper detailing the spell's maximum weight-bearing load at the their annual conference.

Her secret keeping, even without the binding of the spell, wasn't a Slytherin ploy to gain advantage, and it lacked the Hufflepuff heart. She viewed it as the logical path forward, and even her fellow Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors who knew of her affirmed the chivalry, enough to leave her to it. People were drawn to confess to her, the girl who never revealed anything.

This merit gave Calista some grace to slide on her journal. She could allow herself a little vanity; she could leave a boy twisting in the wind, waiting for her to return a bit of his heart. She allowed herself suck weaknesses occasionally, like the chocolates her mother kept in the study.

 **Add another character!**

Calista perched, back straight, on a tall stool in the Potions classroom. She closed her eyes at the sound of a third shattered phial behind her.

"Hugo," she sighed, "when will you stop breaking things?" She turned, and he gave her a grin as he admired his glittering handiwork. She murmured a _Reparo_ and folded her hands, her wand settling in her lap.

"I'll quit when you say you will come with us to Hogsmeade. I promise I won't hex Flint this time."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Or Jonah Smith?"

"That is asking a lot, Calista."

She smiled softly. "Do you have time later to practice Occlumency?"

Hugo's mouth fell open. "We've already had that in last year's exams. It was the only class I scraped an Acceptable."

"Which is why I want to practice with you. No one else is as good at Legilimency."

Hugo gave her a shrewd look, opened his mouth again and closed it. "Hogsmeade."

Calista tilted her head expectantly. Hugo rolled his eyes. "Occlumancy after. But you will have to match me with Butterbeers. Otherwise, the revision is wasted on your advantage."

Calista pulled a face. "Will you be wasted?"

"Calista! Live a little, or Colin will ask you to the Yule Ball again."

Calista's mind scrolled back to the painful memory of the ghostly boy toeing the crack in the stone floor as he stammered his proposal. She nodded. "I'll go. Please stop breaking phials."

 **And another!**

The Three Broomsticks was packed and warm. Calista peeled off her grey jumper and as she pulled her head free was greeted with Daisy's face disturbingly close to her own.

"Daisy." She wondered if she'd voiced her wariness.

"Calista. I need you to help me. It's urgent. Something must be done."

"Hugo?" Calista asked dryly.

"How did you-"

Calista cocked an eyebrow and nodded over to the end of the table, with Hugo seated at the corner, his arms crossed in front of him, his legs straightened and crossed at the ankles. He was talking to a group of Hufflepuff girls who were leaning towards him and giggling.

"You aren't the only one, Daisy."

Daisy gaped at her. "But I love him, Calista. It's serious. It's _real_. You know I have deep feelings for him, and yesterday in Divination, the cards and the leaves told me that he. Is. In. Love. But he's not able to be with his love—me—and you are the person to help. I'm sure he fancies me, but he's...your friend, and he probably is being very noble about sticking up for you after our...disagreement third year.

"When you told everyone in Slytherin I was cosplaying 'The Grey Lady'?"

"Yes! See? And I know you aren't upset about it—so silly, really, our little private joke, but I think you've got him thinking he can't tell me how he really feels. It's in the _leaves_ , Calista. I just think it would be so problematic to thwart a prophecy, and so I was really hoping you could be human and-"

"Tell him that you are deeply in love with him, and I give you both my affectionate blessing?"

Daisy threw herself at Calista and squeezed her hard. "I really don't know why Branwen and Poppy say you are a cold fish. Oooh!" She gave her another squeeze and pulled back to nod at her with a serious composure. "I'm so pleased you decided to do the right thing here, Calista. I'm really proud of you."

Calista nodded. "Daisy, coming from you, this really means...something."

Later, Calista found Hugo hanging back from the gaggle of Ravenclaws picking their way back to Hogwarts. She caught up to him as he slowed his pace to hers. He gave her his easy smile, and she momentarily regretted what she was about to say.

"Hugo," she began carefully, as though she were reciting a passage in Runes, "Daisy," she nodded helpfully, "is deeply in love with you, and I give you both my affectionate blessing."

Hugo stared at her for a brief moment before he rolled his eyes. "So it was you who hurled me at her earlier? Thanks, mate. That was pleasant."

"I simply told her I would relay her feelings to you and tell you I won't be in the way. You talked earlier?"

"Yes. I told her Divination was a load of rubbish."

"She thinks I am keeping you two apart."

His voice was clipped. "I kept you out of it."

Calista stopped. "I'm sorry, Hugo. I hope it didn't ruin your evening."

Hugo sighed. "How could it be ruined, when I have Occlumency revision waiting for me at the castle?"

 **Pick a beverage!**

Hugo leaned over Calista and murmured in her ear. "Drink?"

Calista absently ran a finger along a dress strap, checking to ensure it was secure. "Please. Diet tonic and lime."

Hugo held up his hands. "Steady, there. We've got a long night ahead."

"Maybe some champagne later if everyone isn't crying by then. What's gotten into Albus?" Calista nodded towards Hugo's cousin, who looked more maudlin than usual.

Hugo nodded. "They are having midlife crises."

"He's not even thirty."

"Have you been around my Uncle Harry lately? Lily thought he had terminal dragonpox; he kept giving them bits and bobs from his school trunk. Albus used his dad's baby blanket to drain the spag bol last weekend."

"Your parents aren't-"

"My father just had their Chocolate Frog cards framed as a set. He's got two empty spots at the bottom. It's making Rose anxious." Hugo nodded at his sister, who was already holding a martini glass at a dangerous tilt.

"And you?"

"I've consistently and thoroughly reset my parents' expectations. They are just pleased I'm not a Squib."

"Your mother wouldn't care if you were a Squib, would she? As long as you worked a normal, fifteen-hour day?"

Hugo grined. "You are being gracious, as ever. How's Scorpius?"

Calista sighed. "Father spent so long in therapy with Healer Lovegood he's making Scorpius feel like he should be cross-examining everything he believes in the world. Daddy wants him to rethink every risk he takes."

Hugo downed his glass. "Isn't that what you do?"

Calista clinked his empty glass with her tonic water. "I don't take risks, love."

Hugo gave her a funny look. "Maybe—maybe we should."

 **See your results!**

" **ESTEEMED GUESTS."** The blast of sound was followed by several shrieks and one shattered martini glass. The noise has echoed off the walls, and it took a disorienting moment to find it's source—Fred Weasley—and his wand still pointed at his neck. "Oh, Merlin's bald taint, that was loud. Fucking hell," he muttered softly, as he smoothed his hair and took another sip of Firewhiskey. "Sorry about that, my little ducks." He beamed and inclined his head. Someone snorted from under a couch cushion.

He continued. "Upstairs, I am told, the elders of the clan are toasting to the fraternity of war and crying over our collective peacetime failures. Special acknowledgement goes to Weasley, Louis, for asking his father for a quid to buy lunch in London after he'd tracked down and delivered notices to his sexual partners, and Weasley, Roxanne, who is on her third job in as many months. Impressive numbers, all."

A whistle and some polite clapping accompanied the clinking of glassware.

Fred tucked his hand into his waistcoat, and threw his shoulders back, staring at the group. "Woooo, Minister Flinch-Fletchley!" Roxanne cackled. Fred grinned and adjusted some imaginary spectacles before affecting a posh accent.

"The Lost Generation needs a jolt of revitalizing energy. Since no gifted psychopath has taken up the cause to focus our talents, we present, for our guidance, the Wiznet Lost Generation Life Quiz!"

He flicked his wand, and a flock of shimmering origami sailed into the room, the folded points moving front to side in turns. Each settled in the hand of a guest, over thumbs and index fingers.

"People take these? For real?" Calista wondered out loud.

"SILENCE, INTERLOPER!" Fred as Finch-Fletchley continued, falling out of character to wink at her quickly before continuing. "These quizzes shall give you individual guidance. Give us your favorite Fortescue frozen flavor, and we will tell you where you should live out your remaining earthly days. Pick a Chocolate Frog Card, and we will inform you of your true love. We propose a challenge: Take your quiz, put your result in this bowl-"

"Fred! That's Professor Dumbledore's pensieve!" Rose gasped.

Fred paled, visibly. "Oh. Shite. I drank two shots of Dumbledore brain juice." Fred cleared his throat carefully, and continued to shout, "PUT YOUR ANSWERS IN THIS PENSIEVE I EMPTIED WITH MY OWN MOUTH, AND PLEDGE TO SEEK THEM AS BEST AS YOU ARE ABLE IN ONE YEAR'S TIME, OR BE CURSED. WANDS AWAY. THERE WILL BE NO NEED TO TALK."

"He's kidding." Calista breathed.

"Don't think so." Hugo murmured. "He had an ugly row with Uncle George this week. About his name. I think everyone is coming untethered."

"I'll have champagne while they-"

Hugo smiled. "I'm taking the quiz, too."

Calista stared at him.

"What's the curse?" James asked.

"Which one make you look like that, mate?" Scorpius asked.

"The Shagging Your Mum," James chuckled, lifting his glass in salute.

"Body-bind. A month. And a year's shunning from us." Roxanne said.

"Make it two, and I will go upstairs and lie down now." Albus offered.

"Are we all in?" Rose asked briskly.

Hugo glanced at Calista. "I am!" he shouted.

"You've never liked quizzes." Calista hissed.

Hugo looked at her, coolly. "What would you rather me do now?"

She'd not yet had any champagne, and yet, blood roared to her cheeks, and her ears buzzed. Her mouth opened to say, "Wait," but it died on her lips.

"NO TALKING." Fred barked.

"Revise for Occlumency. Can we practice Occlumency?" she whispered.

Hugo swallowed. He looked wounded. "I think you are good enough at hiding your thoughts from me already."

Calista bit her lip. "But..." Her mind raced. "Those...were my old memories. Stored memories. We've never tried...making new ones. Together."

Hugo frowned at her. She cradled the Wiznet quiz in her palm, and took his hand as she pulled him to the floor so they were setting knee-to-knee. She carefully tucked her dress under her and took a breath.

"Who should go first?"

Hugo stared at her, working through what she had offered. "You never let me copy your work at school," he whispered.

"How do you feel about group projects?" She was startled to hear her voice shaking.

"It depends on my partner." Hugo replied, his look steady.

All of her work had been to avoid this exact moment—the risk of being seen and found lacking. The fear was oddly freeing. She felt dizzy as it effervesced.

He answered. "Tonight, I like them. You take the lead."

She smiled, nervously.

He watched her carefully as she moved the origami to and fro, flicking a flap open, moving it back and forth again. The minutes moved by, and she sat quietly with it for a moment, before she folded it into a square, and aimed it into the Pensieve. She looked up at Hugo and smiled at him. Hugo swallowed. He rubbed his thumb along his wand before the subtle flick at Calista.

The whispered spell contracted his muscles for the force of her resistance, but he gasped to feel no punch for the first time. On the contrary, it was as if a door had been left ajar, and he entered easily.

Calista could feel him in her mind, and it wasn't the painful invasion she had always protected herself from. She took his hand as she felt him gingerly settle in, and she felt an odd tugg of emotion as he pulled away from examining some close memories of writing in her journal, his name flashing beckoningly across the page. He centers himself in front of her hands flicking over folded origami magic.

He was quiet, and then she could feel him carefully retreat. He sat for a moment with his blank quiz.

Calista blinked backed unexpected tears as he copied her movements, and then he folded his quiz and dropped it in the basin with hers.

"I've never been to Canada," he confirmed, mildly.

She exhaled. "Me either."

"Packing is more fun with champagne."

"A few of those things might be."

"Let's find out."

 _ **Editor's Notes: And so we have our first entry in the anthology, a story from Madame X, who wishes to be anonymous because of multiple reasons. There might be several warrants out for her, or maybe she did something questionable in California with a tomato. Can't say, really. I believe we can all say Very Well Done, though.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading, review if you wish and I'll ensure Mme X sees them all. More coming soon.**_


	3. The WizNet Wanderings of Teddy Lupin

**The WizNet Wanderings of Teddy Lupin**

by MuggleBeene

 _2030_

Instead of the picturesque snow that seemed to grace every advert the weather outside of the flat on Boxing Day was full of rain and wind. Mostly wind, as occasionally the tree closest to the room that he was calling the library would bend and scrape against the window. It was the library only due to the one and a half bookcases next to and under the window, full of the remnants that he just couldn't part with. As light began to fade he turned on the lamp closest to him, noticing that the charm was fading, so instead of the full breadth of light he only got a portion of it. 'Fitting.' he thought, as he couldn't help but look at the contents of the bookcase. 'A history of what could have been, all in my books' he thought as he looked to find something to occupy his evening.

There were the introductory Auror instruction manuals, back when he'd planned on being an Auror. That had happened right out of Hogwarts, when everything held so much promise. Harry had been happy for him, telling him that he'd do well in the Auror program, but he knew his godfather too well to believe it fully. As always, Harry had been right, and that had only lasted two years. Moving on there were three Healer texts, when he'd applied and barely been accepted into that program. Looking at the crisp, unbroken spines upon the books he wondered if his grandmother hadn't pulled some strings to get him into that, as she was in a witch's club with some of the members of St. Mungo's board of directors, but dismissed the thought. Even if she had pulled strings it didn't matter in the end. The next books were business books, some of them success story 'you can do it to with my surefire methods' things that he'd picked up here and there, back when he'd decided to go into business for himself. The only problem was that he didn't know exactly what he wanted to do, what to sell or even what kind of business he wanted to run, so that had been yet another waste.

Giving up on the little bookcase he turned his attention to the larger one, happy to see that some of his father's books were mixed with some of his mother's and even his grandfather Ted's. It was easy to tell which books belong to who because of their titles; Remus' books were well-loved, books on the history of witches and wizards, the occasional Defense Against the Dark Arts book, advanced charm and transfiguration theory volumes. Ted's books were history, a mix of Muggle and magical, alongside biographies and large books of art. His mother's books, though, were the ones that he found himself reading more and more lately; popular fiction, celebrity biographies and science-fiction. Interspersed in-between those were smaller, thicker paperbacks, barely held together with magic. Lurid romance novels with purple prose to match their ludicrously exaggerated covers.

Reaching for one of those his hand stopped; he thought he'd returned all of those books. If she was missing this one she hadn't said. Pulling it gently from between two hardbacks he eased the top of the book out first, grasped it and opened it up to see the unmistakable hand of his ex-girlfriend, her name in flowing script. He'd thought that all of Victoire's things had been returned; obviously he was wrong. Another reason to pay attention to the quiz.

It had all been in a bit of fun, initially. Hugo had been the one to bring it to their attention, a bit of a diversion from the conversation that had been happening in one form or another for ages; the disappointment everyone seemed to be to their parents and family. Of course it would be hard to measure up to Harry and Ginny and all of them; for fuck's sake, how could they surpass that? Of course they were happy that they all weren't in the midst of a war, that was a given. But he couldn't shake the sight of Harry's barely hidden disappointment whenever he'd informed him of the latest career change. At the Christmas party last night it seemed that he wasn't the only one. James' failed Quidditch career, Rose's disastrous attempt to start her own clothing line...nobody was doing what they wanted to after Hogwarts. Even Hugo, working with George at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, wasn't exempt. Ruining ten batches of Canary Creams tends to do that. So when they all ended up at the Burrow, off in Arthur's new, giant shed, drinking, Hugo's idea seemed like the best thing to do.

" _Here'_ _s the deal._ _"_ _Hugo had stood up and began replicating the little WizNet access tablets with his wand._ _"_ _Since we_ _'_ _re all such..._ _"_ _He dramatically sighed._ _"_ _...disappointments, lacking direction with our lives, why not let the magic of the quiz decide? It_ _'_ _ll tell us what_ _'_ _s planned for the next year. Everybody takes the quiz, gets their results and puts a copy in...uh...this._ _"_ _He pulled a Muggle piggy bank off of one of the shelves._ _"I'_ _m sure Granddad won_ _'_ _t care, probably doesn_ _'_ _t even know he has this. Anyway, you put your results in this, follow the quiz and then we all meet back here next year to see how horribly we_ _'_ _ve ruined our lives._ _"_

The Ultimate Quiz was up on WizNet, the magical internet, and it claimed that it would give a person direction for the new year. If anyone needed direction, Ted thought, it was him. Putting Victoire's book on a table he picked up the parchment, wondering about his results, how to put it in motion. Sitting back down in a chair next to the feeble light he looked at the quiz again. Thankfully the parchment-print showed his choices, along with the results. How selecting his favourite pizza topping, whether he put milk in before or after he'd poured the tea, selecting a not-yoghurt product to have with breakfast, which picture of Gwennog Jones he liked best along with a song by some old woman named Taylor Swift would help guide his life over the next year was insane. He was also sure that his choice of bikini was absurd, as he would never select one in the first place, along with which Minister for Magic he would select for the nasty 'Shag/Marry/Kill' game. And selecting a colour? Honestly? How would selecting blue over purple give any insight into anything except choosing a colour to paint a room? There were many other questions, as it seemed to go on forever asking idiotic and rather surreal questions, but it had spit out a result. Looking over it again he shook his head.

 _ **Your New Year: Adventure!**_

 _You need to shake up your life. Go on a trip in another country, taking only your rucksack, Galleons and a wand! Drive cross-country, sleep out under the stars, crash a wedding, ask a stranger out on a date and be ready to try new things. This is the year that you make that decision that changes your life, gets you out of the rut your life has become. Adios, comfort zone! Be the you that you_ _'_ _ve always dreamed of and the year will be full of amazing things!_

As the lamp flickered he somehow found himself glancing at Victoire's book on the floor, sitting back with his head on the top of the chair, glancing up at the ceiling. He thought about what his parents would suggest, hearing their imagined voices in his head as he always did when contemplating anything big. " _Oh c'_ _mon, you know you want to do it. What_ _'_ _s holding you back?_ _"_ For a moment he thought his mum would be drowned out by his father's voice of reason. Surprisingly, he imagined his father, the former Marauder, smiling. _"_ _Live a little. Make it count._ _"_

"Fuck it." He said it out loud, turned the parchment over and with the click of an ink pen began to make notes.

-ooo-

"I'm positive, this is what you need. Vintage, it's a classic. Can't go wrong with this baby."

Ted stood in a Muggle used car lot somewhere in Virginia and studied the salesman. It was obvious that the man knew that he hadn't a clue at automobiles, as the first few ones he'd shown were either way out of his price range or looked like they might fall apart the moment he drove it off the lot. Driving wasn't the issue, Harry had taught him that ages ago, but he'd never had to actually think about the car itself; he just drove Harry's. Now, though, with his life savings from Gringotts weighing down his backpack and the amount of Muggle money he'd exchanged upon arriving in America, he wished he had Harry with him. Of course that wouldn't happen if he'd actually listened to Harry, as he'd tried to dissuade Ted from the trip.

He shook his head and returned his focus to the salesman. "I'm not sure. It is rather old. How reliable will it be?"

The salesman adjusted his mirrored sunglasses. "Kid, we do a rigorous inspection on all our cars, won't put 'em out on the lot if they don't meet our strict standards. Now, this doesn't have all the fancy stuff that cars have these days but that just means there's less to go wrong...not that it will, of course. Perfect for that trip across the good ol' US of A."

As he looked at the car Ted wished that he hadn't told the man what he was intending. It did make the salesman avoid the small hatchbacks, though, so perhaps it wasn't all bad.

"Look, it's a wagon, so if you're out in, say, uh, Arizona and want to sleep out in the desert under the stars, you're set." He moved over to the back of the car and opened the gate. "Wagons are perfect for that, drive like a regular car but you've got all the space. Fold those seats down, sleeping bag in the back and you're set. Don't even need a tent. They don't make 'em like this anymore."

After finally acquiescing to a test drive Ted began to think on it, tuning out the salesman's patter about 'sturdy French engineering' and how 'these things were still running in Africa like clockwork' and thought about it. He did like the way it drove, even if it didn't have the power of Harry's car. Turning back into the lot he'd made up his mind. Even if the colour of the wagon did look like a Muggle prosthetic leg he liked it; it seemed like something his grandfather Ted might have bought back in the day, reminding him of some of the old things that he'd inherited from his grandfather. "I'll take it."

He ignored the salesman's shushing of the office clerk when she snorted that they'd finally sold that old Peugeot, signing his name on the line. The Muggles all seemed to be smiling wider when he pulled out the cash from his rucksack. Somehow it felt fitting to be the start of his adventure; he didn't even mind when he was down the road a mile and realized that he had no idea where he was going. Or that they hadn't filled the tank.

-ooo-

The first night was glorious. The road seemed to stretch out forever, and after looking at the map that he'd purchased from the filling station (along with a selection of quite questionable snacks and sugary drinks meant to keep one awake) Teddy realised exactly how long the road would stretch out forever. It seemed as if he had been driving forever that day and had hardly made any progress on the map. But the night? The night was cold with spits of snow, thankfully not accumulating to much as the tires weren't in the best of shape, but that meant that the drivers were off of the secondary roads and he was reveling in the drive, the moon illuminating the landscape as the miles sped by. Unfortunately for Ted the one thing that he hadn't checked before driving away was the radio; calling it inoperative would be charitable as when he went to check it and pulled slightly on one of the knobs the entire unit came out in his hand, the back a mess of wires that had been haphazardly cut. He knew a way to get it fixed, but that would require magic and with the way he felt it would have to wait; all he wanted to do was drive, as driving put him further away from his old life. Instead of music, though, he fantasised about his trip.

 _It would be a bright day with the sun overhead, snow gently falling as he pulled up and stopped in front of the cafe in the small town. Dogs ran by barking at each other so it sounded almost like laughter. He closed the door on the Peugeot and walked between the large American pickup trucks and went inside the cafe, feeling the warmth from the room on his face as a bell tinkled overhead. Some of the customers would look at him but for the most part the old Muggles in their baseball caps ignored him as he sat at the counter. The waitress turned to him, an angelic blonde...no, redhead...brunette. Brunette with short hair. She put a coffee cup down in front of him and gave him a big smile. She'd look over his way every now and then, he'd just catch her out of the corner of his eye, and somehow his coffee cup never got below halfway empty. The conversation began in earnest as the crowd thinned out, halting occasionally for her to take over the check to a tables of departing customers, but it seemed like they'd never stopped talking. At the end of her shift she'd ask if he wanted to go get a drink. He thought she'd never ask, and when she slid into the Peugeot he could smell her perfume, just faintly, and intoxicated him._

It was a nice thought, but as he looked at the petrol gauge and realised that he'd need to stop soon and find someplace to stay for the night that dream seemed as far away as England.

-ooo-

As the old man behind the counter at the diner put the coffee cup in front of him, wiping away the remains from the last customer, Ted pulled out his notebook. He'd made it one of his first purchases before beginning the trip; Scrivenshaft's had recommended it as the enchantments would ensure that he never ran out of pages, all while the notebook remained the same size. It could be configured to notate the date, time, location and even the weather before he began writing as well as incorporate any wizarding photos. Provided that they were taken with the corresponding camera, which just so happened to be on sale behind the counter. He'd gone ahead and purchased it, even thought it was slightly over what he wanted to spend, rationalising the expense as there would never be another time in his life that this trip would ever be possible. Not in any foreseeable future that awaited his return.

Clicking the ink pen a few times he began making his notes.

 _First real day of travel. Currently in Richmond, Virginia, but I didn't need to write that as I see it's above the entry at the top. Thankfully I have the Magical Atlas of America that Ginny absolutely insisted that take along, and I'll have to write and thank her. America is absolutely...vast. I knew that before starting, obviously, but it's slightly overwhelming to think about. I thought it might take a few months to go from coast to coast but now I'm glad I don't have to be back until Christmas. It might actually take me that long. Hopefully my funds will be sufficient, as I am_ _NOT_ _going to ask Harry for a loan. That was one of his stipulations, delivered with another of those 'I'm trying to hide my trepidation but I'll go along with it because you're over thirty even though you don't act it' looks of his. Grandmother told me that if I needed anything to contact her, but if I do she'll never let me live it down._

 _I will have to look in the Atlas to see where the closest magical auto repair shop is located, as I think the small amount of magic I've done in the Peugeot to compensate for the feeble heating system has begun to play havoc with the electrics. It would be good to have a radio, as well. Driving silently isn't bad, quite enjoyable at times, but a whole year of it while driving alone may send me around the twist. Also it's bloody cold. -8 when I woke up this morning. The diesel in the wagon didn't like that too well. Maybe I should have them check the engine whist they are at it, just to make sure that I don't have a breakdown while going over a mountain or something similar._

Later that morning, while in one of the older sections of Richmond, Ted stood next to an old wizard while the man sighed, fished out a cigar from his coveralls and lit it with his wand. Ted knew this couldn't be a good sign, but instead of dwelling on what the man was about to tell him he found his gaze traveling all over the shop. Several old automobiles, along with some new electric and hydrogen ones, were parked in various bays. A big sedan of some sort was held aloft with what had to be massive suspensory spells, as there was no visible means of keeping the car aloft while another wizard welded with his wand, sparks flying everywhere.

"Kid?" The man handed Ted a piece of paper. "Here's everything that's wrong. Now, that doesn't mean ya gotta do it all at once. If you're gonna keep this thing forever I'd do it all, but..."

"No, not forever. Just a trip across the country."

"Really? In that?" He chuckled. "Brave. Kinda stupid, but brave." He sighed. "Ok. Gimme that." He took the paper back and began making tick marks next to some items with a pen. "Radio's the easiest thing on here, really. We can throw in one of those that picks up the MRN clear as a bell all across the country, that's no problem. Tires are easy, too. Now your engine and electrics are what's shaky. We can do our best but there's no guarantee it'll make it a hundred miles down the road let alone to California. You going to California?"

Ted shrugged. "Perhaps. I haven't really planned that far ahead."

The man handed the paper over to Ted. "Jesus, kid. Fine. We'll do a routine service, try to soothe out the wiring and that's the best I can do unless you want to leave it here a few months."

"No, not really." Ted looked at the work order. Even with the slimmed down list of repairs and enhancements it was going to cost quite a bit. At least a quarter of his funds. "A day?"

"Yeah, we can knock that out in a day. Close at 8. So go ahead?"

Pulling the money out of his rucksack he nodded. "Yes, just the minimum, please."

-ooo-

It took longer than expected, as the electrics were more of a problem the shop anticipated, so that when Ted arrived at half-seven to pick up the wagon it wasn't quite ready. He sat in the waiting room with old magazines about Quodpot and the American Goblin Football League drinking the remains of a pot of coffee that might have been brewed before lunch. Thankfully it was a little after 9 when the man came in, handed him the keys and the receipt for the work, wished him well and all but shoved him out of the shop. Apparently he was on the verge of missing an evening with his wife and really didn't want to mess about with Ted. After getting into the Peugeot and starting it up, relieved to hear the engine actually sound smoother, he reached over and turned the knob on the new radio. And it was a new radio, protective film still covering it's glassy surfaces. Once the film was peeled away he began turning it around, amazed that how clear it sounded, as if it was right in the back seat. The Magical Radio Network announcement came on, congratulating him for purchasing one of their Coast to Coast models with integrated communication. The knobs could be used for manual tuning but it also accepted verbal commands. Once he'd said the requisite phrases for the system to acclimatise to his accent it asked what he would like to listen to and started to present a selection of different music genres, but as it was late he wasn't really in the mood for music.

"Talk radio."

 _The top five talk radio programs airing at this moment are Politics with Joe Screamer, The All Sports Network Fantasy Quidditch Show, Tell it to Mallory..._

"Tell it to Mallory, please." It was a quick decision, as it sounded better than the first two options, and if the first two were any indication it was probably more of the same.

 _Tuning to requested station._

It wouldn't be that long of a drive, hopefully, only to Charlottesville and then over to a small magical community in the Blue Ridge Mountains for a stay at a small hotel that still indicated vacancy when he had checked before leaving. As it was late it would give him some time to drive, make a little progress since it seemed that he hadn't really made any, but more importantly it would let him test out the changes from the auto shop.

The advert for a concert in Los Angeles was his first hint that the radio station was broadcasting from across the continent; California, if that was his destination, seemed so far away. Like success, or a profession, or anything resembling either of those things. And then the program music changed to a gentle, strummed acoustic guitar soon added to a soothing, female voice.

' _Welcome back to Tell it to Mallory. Lines will be open soon, but before that I'd like to comment on our last caller.' She paused. 'Abagail in Agony, thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell us your story. I can only tell you what I think, and I'm not a licensed professional therapist or anything, but if this show has shown me anything it's that there is power in telling your story. Now I'm not talking power like forcing people to accept your view, not at all. There's power for you. You've taken the first step, you've told us how you were feeling. Sometimes that's the hardest thing to do, to admit to yourself how you were feeling and talking about why, even if there's no definitive answer for why you're feeling that way. Now in your case, the fact that your fiancée has been arrested for illegal charms is something you'll need to decide how you want to handle. Yes, your parents love him, and yes, he's got a great job, but you will need to talk to him and make your own decisions. It won't be easy, but if you don't you'll never quite be sure and that's no way to enter a marriage. Not that I know anything about marriage, but based on my callers' stories I think I have a few ideas. As always, Abagail, thanks for calling and sharing your story._

 _You're tuned into Tell it to Mallory, one of America's only call in advice programs broadcasting coast to coast on the Magical Radio Network. This is the show to call to talk about anything, anything you need to talk about, and I'll listen. We will all listen, with no judgements. This is your story. I'll give you my opinion, but that's all it is, an opinion. What you do is up to you. Now we've got Flustered in Fresno. Go ahead Fresno, tell it to Mallory. What's on your mind?'_

Ted drove along, transfixed on the voices. A man who seemed almost elderly by the tone of his voice described how he was worried that his wife of many years might be showing early signs of dementia, something that worried him because witches and wizards lived much longer lifespans than Muggles, and they were still relatively young. Besides being drawn in by the story Ted found himself listening to Mallory's voice, how comfortable it was to hear, how soothing it was, how the timbre seemed like a soft, fuzzy jumper on a cold day. He understood why people felt at ease telling her their most closely held fears and worries, as she listened, consoled, questioned appropriately but never seemed forward. The miles began falling away as the elevation climbed, the roads twisting and bending while the weather began to turn the spitting snow into a definite, steady accumulation. He slowed his speed, following the large lorries that trundled in front of him, their brake lights beacons leading the way.

Eventually the snow began to fall hard enough that he felt the tires begin to slip, a sure sign that he needed to get out of the mountains and closer to his destination. Turning down the volume so he could concentrate he made his way slowly down off one mountain only to seemingly start up a larger one. At this point his nerves were starting to build, breaths coming faster, the grip tighter on the steering wheel. A sign up ahead indicated a pullover spot, somewhere to get off the twisting road even for a few moments, something he desperately needed to steel his nerves. Thankfully it appeared rather soon, with a bit of good fortune that the lorry in front also had decided to turn off as well, as if guiding him in. He parked in the section indicated for cars, a ways away from the few others parked there, put the gear indicator into park and glanced at the petrol tank before turning off the engine. A little under a half tank left. Deciding to chance it he turned the engine back on, this time keeping the lights off, and turned up the radio.

' _It's a job, Stressed Steve. We all have to work, or at least find someway to make it in this world. Maybe working at MACUSA isn't for you. Based on how you're feeling I'm not sure it is. Walking in tomorrow and telling your boss what you think of him does sound wonderfully gratifying as I'm sure we all agree what he did to you was awful, but what about the next day? And the one after that? We all have bills. I know we've all fantasized about doing that, but why not sleep on it and think about it a little more? If you've thought about it and still go through with it, that's your choice. Just think a little bit more about things; maybe talk to a job counselor or start applying for other jobs. If it's the boss that's the problem and not MACUSA maybe there are openings in other departments, heck, maybe other cities. It's a big operation, MACUSA, and it's a big country. Hope that helps. Ok, time to take a break to hear from our amazing sponsors, lines are open. Tell Mallory what's on your mind, I'm listening.'_

She's listening. Ted sat there, as snow accumulated on the windscreen and melted away, and made a decision. "Radio, call the Tell it to Mallory program."

After a few moments a voice came on. "You've reached Tell it to Mallory. What's your name and reason for calling."

It was obviously a house elf voice, albeit without the normal house elf vocal cadence Ted was used to. After pausing for a moment he nodded. "Hello, I'm...uh, Lost Ted. I'm calling because, well, I've taken out all of my savings, bought a woefully inadequate Muggle auto and am now driving across America because that's what a WizNet quiz told me to do this year. I really..."

"Where are you from? Originally?"

"England."

"Hold on. She's coming back from commercial in five. Can you hold?"

"Certainly. I'm just sitting in this lay-by in the mountains getting snowed on. I'm not in a hurry by any means."

"Hang tight. You'll be muted until she says 'Lost Ted.' That's your cue, got it?"

"Yes."

Without saying goodbye the voice was gone, leaving him sitting there, wondering if he was going mental, calling a radio show. Before he knew it, though, Mallory was back on air and then he heard her say 'Lost Ted.'

' _Somewhere in the mountains, sitting in a car getting snowed on, is Lost Ted. Welcome, Ted.'_

"Thank you. Should I just start telling..."

' _I'm sorry, I usually don't do this, but Ted you're not from America, are you?'_

"No, England. Near Salisbury, actually, but I'm not sure that helps. But no, I'm not from America."

' _Again, I apologize. Go ahead, Ted, tell us why you're lost.'_

With a deep breath he began. "It's hard to start this without going into a lot of history. The Wizarding War in Britain affected so many people, I'm not sure how much of that is known here, but the generations of people that survived that war have done so many great things. And I'm a product of those people, those that made it through, and so many of my friends and family that are my age are just so...directionless. I've tried many things, different jobs, but they just didn't work out. Neither did my girlf...ex-girlfriend. She accepted a position and moved away, to France, and I understand she's just become engaged. So that's some background. Now, as to why I'm here, a group of us took a WizNet quiz and decided to follow the results for a year, meeting back up at Christmas. My result told me that I needed adventure, to do something to get out of a rut, so I took out my savings, hopped an international portkey and ended up over here. Bought a rather dodgy Peugeot and I'm driving across America. I don't really have any destination, except the other end of America."

' _Do you at least have a map or two?'_

"Yes, Muggle and magical. I was going to Charlottesville to stay at a little hotel but I'm not sure I can do that with the amount of snow on this mountain."

' _The equipment says you're in Virginia. That's a long way from the west coast, Ted. A long way to drive solo. At least you've got the radio, right?'_

"Absolutely. Just had it installed today. Yesterday was rather quiet."

' _And does that bother you? Being quiet and alone?'_

"Not particularly. It would be rather nice to have had company. Someone to share meals with, to listen, ignore my horrid singing voice, all that. I'm documenting it all so that I'll have things to remember and share when I return home, but right now this wouldn't even take twenty minutes to show my family. Bought a car, spent way too much money, no real destination in mind and...that's it, really. Nothing that I'm really headed towards, just things I'm apparently running away from. An entire ocean away, actually. Multiple oceans away from my ex-girlfriend. That's been the hardest thing, now that I think of it. We've known each other from when we were small, went to school together, see each other at family events. Oh! I need to clarify, when I mean family events, it's really her family. Her uncle is my godfather, both of my parents died in the war. It's not that kind of family." He heard Mallory chuckle. "So she's really the only girl I ever dated. I don't even know how to start on that. My friends call me clueless. Lost, perhaps would have been better, continuing the theme. So that's why I'm sitting here in a car on a mountain freezing my bollocks off and calling you. Can I say bollocks?"

' _Apparently so, don't worry about that. I'm not sure the censors know what that means, and even if they do I won't hear about it until later and really I'm not concerned about the censors, more about you. If I can ask a personal question, did you ever consider dating anyone else? Did she make you happy when you were together? Stop! Don't answer that, that's not a fair question. What about this; what makes you really happy, Lost Ted?'_

"I...uh. I'm not really sure I know any more, Mallory. I like watching football with Hugo. I believe you call it soccer, only the keeper can use his hands. I like a good pint with a good meal. A good book. I like driving, honestly; the road stretching out, so many possibilities of something around the corner you didn't expect. New kinds of food. I like those things, but unfortunately not many of those things are possible without a job that I can endure." He sighed. "I guess I'll just keep on that path until my funds run out."

' _Hmmm...' Mallory was quiet for a moment. 'Well, if you're heading to the west coast you've got a long time to really think about what you want, what makes you happy, and what would do the best to accomplish those things. I'm not saying that it'll all be perfect or easy or doable right away, but then you'd have something to shoot for. It sounds like a lot of this, to me anyway, has been building for a while and you were just stuck in a rut, like the WizNet quiz said. That also has to be one of the wildest things I've ever heard, using a WizNet quiz to make a big life decision like this. Last time I took one of those it told me that I'm the reincarnated soul of an ancient Egyptian prince, so I'm not sure how good the magic is on those. But people have made bigger decisions based on less, according to my callers. One woman took it as a sign to begin trying to have a child because a bird made a nest outside her bedroom window and the number of callers who have flipped a coin is too many to count. It sounds like you'll be on the road for a long time, Ted. Hopefully you won't be lost all the time. Feel free to call in and give an update. Would you do that?'_

"I...yeah. I could do that."

' _Thanks. How are you doing now, after telling us everything? Had you told anyone all of that before?'_

"Not precisely." Ted reached over and turned off the engine, not wanting to waste any more diesel. "I mean, they know most of it, my friends. Especially after a few pints, but not like that. Really. No, not all of that. I'm a bit older than most of my friends, so it's like they look up to me in some ways, mostly because I was the first to attend Hogwarts, buy my wand, all of that. I feel like I've been a rotten example to them even though I know that's irrational on some level."

' _Feelings are feelings, Ted. We can't just ignore or think them away, if we're having feelings it's for a reason.'_

"Thank you, Mallory. That's very kind of you."

' _You're welcome. I hoped our talk has helped. I'll be listening for your next call.'_

And then Ted heard the sound shift, as if a subtle pop came through the speakers. He was no longer on air. Leaning back into the seat, and pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, he watched the snow fall outside his driver's side window as it had completely blanketed the windscreen.

-ooo-

It had taken him longer to make it to his destination than he had anticipated. The snow had thinned out from on top of the mountain, thankfully, and after a rather cold evening in the lay-by using minimal warming charms on his clothing and sleeping bag the clear light of day had made it much easier to descend from the mountain. From there he'd looked at the magical map, selected Knoxville due to it's small, thriving magical culinary scene, and began driving. In good weather with light traffic it was supposed to take a little over five hours but in reality it had taken him two days, with another night in the sleeping bag in the back of the Peugeot. Now he sat at small cafe, tired, sure that everyone that entered the establishment could smell his socks. Mentally ticking off expenses he felt that he should indulge a bit and get a hotel for the massive luxury of a shower and decent bog. The splashing cleansing that he'd done at the truck stop had given the other occupants of the men's room a bit of a pause, but it was the best that could be done at the time.

Clicking the pen he opened the notebook, noting the location 'Knoxville, Tennessee' at the top.

 _I'm not sure I can do this. It's so different than what I expected, but then again I'm not exactly sure what I thought it would be. I'm positive it would be much easier to drive if I had started this in another month or even the summer, but that wouldn't be proper, not following the quiz results._

He stopped writing and accepted his coffee from the waitress, thanking her, but instead of simply acknowledging his response and moving on to another customer she stopped. Looking up at her, he saw a rather odd look on the middle-aged woman's face. "Yes?"

"What can I get ya?" She held the small order notepad and a pen at the ready.

"Umm, how about a fry up?"

"Fry up?" She cocked her head at him. "What's that?"

"Eggs, bacon, sausages, tomato, beans and toast."

"Beans? We don't have that for breakfast. That accent, are you from England?"

He nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you driving cross-country? From England?"

After blinking a few moments in surprise he nodded. "Ah, um, yes, actually. I am."

"Oh my God. You're Lost Ted!" The waitress sat the coffee carafe down on his table and gave him a rather motherly look. "Oh my, you need to call Mallory. Do you have any idea what's been going on?"

"Sorry, no." Ted's confusion began to grow, his brows gathering and, unfortunately for him, his hair began to gradually turn dark blue at the tips. He'd hoped to keep a fairly low profile whilst on his trip, wondering if his close association with his godfather would translate across the Atlantic, but the incredulous look upon the woman's face made that increasingly at odds with his desire. "What exactly..."

"She's been asking about you, so's everyone else. Mostly women, and I can't say I blame them. Hecate, if I was a few decades younger and single I'd chuck it and go for a ride with you. Never been west of the Rockies."

For a quick moment Ted felt relieved; they weren't interested in his godfather. That moment soon faded, though, followed immediately by a sudden lurch of his stomach; they were interested in him. He saw her move out of the corner of his eyes, registering the fact that she'd moved the coffee pot on the table and had seated herself next from him, something that would usually elicit a response of some sort but at the moment he was simply too gobsmacked to do anything but stare blankly at her. Apparently his quiet demeanor was taken as an invitiation to talk, as he saw her lips moving in speech but didn't hear a word she said. Shaking his head slightly and blinkinking rapidly he finally came out of the small stupor.

"...you'd think you were a prize or something, the way they keep calling in about you, wondering where you are and if they can tag along. At least Mallory convinced that young woman in Indiana to stay at home. After all, she's got a baby, travelling cross-country is hard enough as it is, but with a baby along?" She paused. "I'm sorry, gotta take care of the other customers." Standing quickly she smoothed her apron and picked up the coffee pot. "Ok, this is on me. I'll see if we have any beans in the back, rest is no problem. Eat up, big drive ahead, right? Call Mallory tonight, she'll fill you in." Walking away she muttered "Lost Ted, here in my little place. Go figure."

It took several deep breaths for him to calm down, followed by a quick drink of coffee. After thinking on it he took another drink, this time much deeper as if willing the caffeine to knit together his synapes towards something approaching rational thought. Opening the notebook once more he continued.

 _It seems that somehow my call to Tell it to Mallory has caused some sort of reaction, based on the waitress at the cafe. Other people are calling in to the show about me and Mallory is asking about me. I'll have to listen tonight to see what they're on about. At least this wasn't about Harry, though I'm not sure if that's better. I know how to deal with that sort of thing. This? I have no clue._

-ooo-

The weather had evened out, the snow no longer an issue, and he had made good time for the day. St. Louis seemed a good destination based on Ginny's map, indicating several monuments and places that were visible only to those with magic. More importantly, there was a hostel there that was left over from when witches and wizards had moved westward when America had expanded, something of a historical location, and a bed sounded wonderful. The Peugeot was comfortable enough, but it was cold enough that the thought of sleeping in the back was something to be avoided.

As the miles went by he kept an eye on the clock, waiting. Traffic was fairly sparse, especially on what would have been the B roads at home, all the better to listen. His watch's insistent ticking sounded like it had been amplified the way it echoed around in his head, something he knew was all in his mind, but it gnawed at him, blood pressure rising along with the nerves.

Finally he could avoid it no longer. Reaching over he flicked on the radio, told it to tune into Mallory's show and made a concerted effort to focus on the driving. The same soft guitar music and intro began, along with Mallory's soothing voice. Instead of thinking of his situation he concentrated on her words, how the accent was different than his, how listening to her seemed to ease his shoulders. She dealt with a caller who was worried that his grandchildren would be Muggles or Squibs after his daughter had married a Muggle, informing the man that magic and science were closely aligned and in most cases that magic won out. Rather skillfully, by asking questions, she also had the man admit that deep down he really didn't care either way if the future grandchildren had magic, that he would love them either way. That took up the entire first segment, and he thought about calling in at that point, but the next caller took him by surprise.

' _Welcome back to Tell it to Mallory. Time for our newest and, based on the volume of calls, the most popular segment, Where's Lost Ted? For those who aren't familiar with the caller let me give you some background. Lost Ted is an Englishman in America, driving cross-country because he took a WizNet quiz and is following it's advice. I know that's hard to believe, but it's true. But what has sparked the imagination is that he's been thrown over by a long-term girlfriend, all alone, driving around for a year trying to find out a bit more about himself. Sounds a bit lonely, doesn't it? Sounds like it'd be a much more enjoyable year if there was a bit of company along for the ride, right? Well I've had callers offer to accompany Ted on his trip, some of them rather insistent about it. But since his call we've had no contact with Ted, no idea where he is in our great big country._

 _Until now! That's right, listeners, we received a call earlier in the first segment from Kimmy in Knoxville, who told my producer that she served Lost Ted breakfast this morning in Wigglyville, Knoxville's magical restaurant district. She told him to listen as, get this, he had no idea that all of you out there listening want to go along for a ride. Hopefully Ted's listening right now as I've got a guest that might make things a lot more interesting. Joining me right now from Los Angeles is Wendy, Senior Quiz Creator for WizNet! Hello Wendy!'_

' _Hello, Mallory, so happy to be here!'_

' _Thank you, Wendy. So when you created the Ultimate Quiz did you ever expect anything like this to happen?'_

' _No, not at all. We create our quizzes using a proprietary method that involves charms, runes and other things we can't divulge. They all have magic in them, but it also depends on how much magic you put in to the results. Really they're all just for a bit of fun, but we can't wait to see how everything turns out.'_

' _We're all very interested, Wendy. Now you know from our correspondance that callers are offering to accompany Lost Ted on his trip, but there's no way for us to contact Ted even if we could figure out how to do that. But you, that's a different story. Tell us what WizNet has planned.'_

' _WizNet will be conducting a quiz just for our American audience. This isn't like our usual quizzes, though. Normally the results will tell you something about your life, like which Quidditch team you should support, but that's where it stops. It's an end; this quiz, though, is a beginning. Based on the results of the quiz we will select several companions to accompany Lost Ted on his road trip. Think of it as a combination of quiz and a dating survey. Oh, this is if we can get in touch with Lost Ted and he agrees. We're calling it the Lost Ted Blind Date Road Trip Quiz. Once we publish the quiz we'll announce the results on your show, Mallory, in our new segment.'_

At this point in the show Ted couldn't take it any more. He signalled quickly, turning off the road at the first opportunity, bringing the car to a halt in the darkness next to some sort of giant farming barn thing.

' _That's right, listeners, the Tell it to Mallory show is happy to welcome WizNet as a sponsor for the Where's Lost Ted segment, always the second spot in our show after our first caller and commercial break. Ted, if you're out there, give us a call so we can talk details. Believe me when I say that there are a lot of people out here waiting to hear from you.'_

Exhaling loudly Ted reached over and turned off the car, flicked the keys back so that the electrics would work and sat back heavily in the seat. As Mallory and the WizNet witch kept talking he began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, debating. On one hand he could just ignore this, keep driving and pretend it didn't happen. But the WizNet quiz had told him to go on an adventure; what was this except a gold-plated, charmed invitation to adventure? With a creaking voice that betrayed his nerves he asked the radio to call the show.

Once again the house elf producer took his call, this time with a bit more excitement in his voice when Ted told him that yes, it was him, Lost Ted on the line. After a brief moment of conversation between Mallory and the WizNet witch he heard 'Lost Ted' and the pop announced that he was once again on the air.

' _Ladies and gentlemen, I am very happy to announce that Lost Ted is with us. Hello there, Ted? How are you?'_

"Hello, Mallory. To be quite honest I'm a bit...well I'm not sure exactly what I am at this moment. Gobsmacked doesn't even begin to cover it."

' _I'm sure, I'm sure. Tell us, Ted, did you hear about the new quiz? Your quiz?'_

"I did." He paused, and Mallory let the silence hang for a moment. "And I've decided that, in the spirit of the WizNet quiz I've taken, which said I needed adventure, that I'll do it."

' _That's wonderful! Callers, this is going to be a great year for us, for some of you lucky quiz takers, and hopefully for Lost Ted. Ted, let me introduce Wendy from WizNet, she'll take you through the next part.'_

' _Hello, Ted. All of us at WizNet are so happy you've agreed to go on this adventure, but to make sure we craft the quiz to you and you specifically I'd like to meet, if you don't mind. What would be a good location?'_

"I'll be in St. Louis tomorrow morning. Will that work?"

' _Perfectly. Please stay on the line and the producer will give you the location.'_

Before Ted could think of what he'd gotten himself into Mallory's voice came back on.

' _Ted, before you go, how about an update? What's it been like so far?'_

"Well..." He paused. "It's been interesting. I've met several intriguing people, and have learned a bit. You can't get beans with breakfast, that's one thing. The country is vast, I mean, I knew that, but until you start trying to drive across the place it just seems vague. Conceptually you know blue whales are massive but it never really registers until you come up next to one and get a sense of the scale. Not that I've done that, it's just what I'm imagining how it would work."

' _I see. Any other insights? The last time we spoke you were planning on taking this time to learn about yourself. Any revelations?'_

Ted sat there long enough contemplating an answer that Mallory asked if he was still there. "Yes, still here. I'm not quite sure. I don't know if I've ever really thought about what I want to do with my life, precisely. It's always been things that I thought I could do to make a living that wouldn't make my family give me one of those looks, you know, the 'oh, well maybe someday you'll sort yourself out' looks. The ones that make you feel like you've disappointed them horribly. Right now it hasn't been that long so I really just feel like a tourist. Maybe that will change. I hope it will."

' _So do we, Ted. I know the listeners will look forward to your updates, especially with the new quiz. Thanks for calling, Ted, and stay on the line. Until next time.'_

As the commercials began in the background the sound shifted so the Floo powder jingle was muted, as if far off in the distance. The producer's voice came through clearly, though, giving Ted an address in St. Louis. He assured the producer he could make the appointment, was told the WizNet witch would be wearing glasses and a t-shirt that would say 'I Just Look Like Her' and promised that he would call back in two days later. Once the producer ceased the connection the commercials came back with full volume. He sat there in the dark, next to an almost barren field, listening as a theater advertised that tickets were almost sold out for the last performance of The Fall of Voldemort. The promise to Mallory was somewhat worrying now, but he asked the radio to play some music and started the engine. St. Louis lay ahead, that was a given, but after that was a complete unknown.

-ooo-

The location was easy enough to find, even if parking was something of an issue. Instead of being able to park close by Ted had to find a spot five blocks away; meeting at magical locations did have its difficulties when arriving like a Muggle. Wrapping the scarf Molly Weasley had made for him that first Christmas after starting Hogwarts a bit tighter around his neck he leaned into the wind, hoping that it would cease once he'd turned the corner, blocked by the buildings. Thankfully that happened and as the destination became closer he once again wondered if he was getting in over his head. The idea of being something of a prize for a dating quiz made him feel slightly...off. He wasn't the greatest conversationalist, as Victoire had told him multiple times. Sure, there were things he was interested in, but they never seemed to be things that she wanted to hear about. For very long, anyway. Now he'd be trapped in his Peugeot for Merlin knew how long with someone he'd never met, forced to figure out a way to pass the time.

He paused in front of a shop, appearing as if he was looking in the window at the display, but in reality he was checking his appearance. It occurred to him at that moment that, if he wanted to, he could change his face to be different for each person that came along on his trip, that way he have a plausible explanation for not being spotted out and about on his journey, but then he felt guilty. Victoire hadn't liked it when he'd used his mum's legacy, shifting his hair or features even for something so small as a haircut or colour change, insisting on something so stupid as having him shave normally. It would have been so easy, no more than a flick of his fingers to retreat the beard hairs. The memory made him laugh sarcastically as he watched a beard begin to form on his face almost unconsciously. It wasn't a big beard like Hagrid's, but enough that it made him feel more...something. At least less like 'old Ted.' His hair had been growing out slightly, more out of laziness than anything, so he accentuated that a bit so it would be long enough to pull up in a small ponytail at the back, making him feel like one of those posh, old school wizards. There was nothing to be done about his clothes, however, as he had followed the quiz instructions and had only packed a small amount that would fit in his rucksack; the cardigan under the coat would have to do. Coming out of his reverie as a woman with shopping bags exited the shop broke his concentration he nodded to her in passing, took a deep breath and continued on.

The restaurant was unassuming, just a small placard outside, but he welcomed the warmth and respite from the wind as he entered. There weren't many customers, but then again 3 in the afternoon wasn't a peak time for many restaurants. It didn't take long to find the WizNet witch, as she had seated herself in a booth with a direct line of sight to the door, and he noticed that as he had been informed she wore the t-shirt with the slogan. Making his way over to her he also realised that she was younger than him, hair pulled up on top of her head, glasses on, intently reading something while absentmindedly sipping a drink through a straw. Conjuring up what was left of his Gryffindor courage at that point he walked over and stood next to her booth. "Wendy?"

Her head snapped up. "Ted? Lost Ted?" Seeing his nod she motioned towards the other side of the booth, beaming at him. "I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you. Wendy Furling."

He shook her hand. "Pleasure." He slid off his coat and hung it on the hook fastened to the top of the wooden part of the booth, seating himself quickly thereafter. "So I'm not sure exactly…"

"That's why I'm here." Before she could continue the waitress appeared, making Wendy nod. "Oh, I've ordered a St. Louis specialty for you, but something to drink?"

"Uh, sure." He glanced at the menu the waitress handed him for a few moments. "I, um...I'm afraid I don't know, too early for…Coke?"

After the waitress left Wendy sat back. "Everyone at WizNet wants to thank you for your cooperation. The traffic increase has been amazing, and...you have no idea, none. It's been crazy. Ok, before we start there are some things we need to do, don't worry, just some standard stuff. Legal insisted. Just a background check to make sure you aren't an escaped serial killer or anything. You aren't a serial killer, are you?"

"No, definitely not." He paused. "I space them out." He watched something flicker across her face before hurrying ahead. "Sorry, sorry, just a joke. Bit nervous."

"Understandable. Funny, though. This'll be fun. Ok, here's the standard background check form. We use them for everyone who works at WizNet but since you aren't actually working for us it's been modified a bit."

The waitress returned, sliding a glass over to Ted with a straw next to it. He thanked her, took a sip without the straw, and took a look at the form. He wondered what would happen, as he knew from Harry that as one of the developments from after the Voldemort wars that there was a worldwide background check facility somewhere in Belgium that all magical governments and most wizarding businesses used. How much information they had on him was something that flicked though his thoughts as he entered the information; after all, he'd been in the Auror program at one point. He was almost done when the waitress arrived again, this time sliding plates and the appetizer onto the table.

"Toasted ravioli. You can't come to St. Louis without getting toasted ravioli." Wendy heaped several of the ravioli onto a plate and moved it to his side of the table. "Ok, this won't take long. Have a few and by the time you're done I'm sure we'll have the results. Doesn't take but a few minutes."

He finished up before eating, handed her the form, watched her tap her wand on the parchment and then turn it over. He'd eaten one of the ravioli, intrigued by the crunchy outer shell with meat filling, dipping a second one in the little container of marinara sauce when he heard Wendy say 'holy fucking shit.' Chewing quickly he looked up at her to see that she'd pushed her glasses up onto her head, eyes wide. Swallowing took a bit more effort than usual, his voice coming out somewhat strained. "Yes? Problem?"

"Problem? Oh hell no. You're Edward Lupin. Godson of Harry freaking Potter. Holy shit. Really? The Harry Potter? Son of a werewolf and an actual metamorphagus? Jesus H Christ."

"Guilty as charged. Is that..."

"This is amazing. I can't believe it. So...wow. No wonder this came back quick. Still going, actually." She nodded towards the parchment which was continuing to extend as more details spilled out, eventually ending with what Professor Longbottom would have called a 'very thorough' length for one of the Herbology exams. "British Auror clearance, lower level...and you're listed as a VIP by MACUSA. If you are a serial killer you're a damn good one then, as this is one of the cleanest background checks I've ever seen." She paused, shaking her head. "You actually know Harry Potter. Like, really know him."

"Yes, yes." He rolled his eyes. "But all that was over then, he's just...please, don't mention this in your quiz. Please?"

Coming back to herself Wendy nodded. "If that's what you want. I think I understand, I have a friend who's a musician. Ok. Ok. Ok." After a long, exhaling sigh she turned to him. "So Ted...you do prefer Ted, right?" Seeing his nod she continued. "We're going to have some fun with this quiz. Want to get started?"

After another hour and an additional serving of toasted ravioli Wendy had the information she needed for her quiz. Ted had been presented with four options of different things, asked to rank them in order of preference from 1 to 4 with 1 being what he liked best, all sorts of things that seemed random but according to Wendy would provide the best results. What sort of things he liked on his pizza, favourite season, different shoes, musical artists he'd never heard of before, recreational activities, paintings, smells, books that he'd never read, holiday destinations; it went on for so long that at the end he was just picking things to get it over with, not really thinking on it very long.

Eventually, though, they did reach the end. Wendy sat back, looking very happy and then reached into her bag on the booth next to her. She pulled out a WizNet tablet and handed it to him along with an envelope. "Ok, since it'll take a day or so to magic this up we'd like to give you these. The tablet is a special one, had the guys in magitech pull it together. It's a regular WizNet tablet but they added a communications channel, that's how we'll contact you. And, since it'll take a bit to get everything ready the envelope has your hotel for the next couple of days. It's not the fanciest place but it's decent, my parents stayed there over Thanksgiving last year. Not that hotel, but the same chain, anyway." She paused. "I know I've thrown a lot at you all at once, but a couple of days in a hotel with room service should help. Beats sleeping in hostels and your car, right?" Seeing Ted nod silently she began shoving papers and materials in her bag. "Ok, my WizNet mail address is in there, let me know if you need anything or have any questions. I've also put the details on how this will all work if you want to read up." Standing up she extended her hand.

Ted stood, shook her hand and nodded. "Thank you. I think."

With her hand still clasped in his she smiled widely. "Oh, I think you'll have a wonderful time. We can't wait to hear about it."

 _ **A/N: This will be continued later on as it was getting rather long. Next section is partially completed.**_


	4. Family Ties Part 1 by Bad Mum

_**Note: And now the first installment of a story for the anthology by one of my favorite writers, Bad Mum.**_

 **Family Ties by Bad Mum**

It wasn't just that she had cocked up. She had cocked up so super spectacularly that Gringotts employees would be talking about it for years to come. Which was bad enough, but when your surname was Weasley and when your uncle was Harry Potter (yes, _the_ Harry Potter) it was infinitely worse. Add to that the fact that your boss, who had to pick up the pieces from your debacle and then haul you over the coals for causing it, was your dad, and there were days when Dominique Weasley seriously considered taking up her grandmère's offer of going to France to stay with her and not leaving for fifty years or so.

Bill Weasley was scrupulously fair. He smoothed things over with the Congolese Ministry of Magic; he sent a team of expert curse breakers, headed by his deputy, Dean Thomas, to deal with the Fissilus and Fractionis curses Dominique and her unwitting junior had let loose; and when Dean returned and Dominique was out of St Mungo's, he left it to Dean to haul her over the coals and tell her she was fired.

He waited until she was home and proclaimed to be fully recovered before he told her precisely what he thought of her behaviour himself. On the whole, Dominique had preferred the dressing down she had got from Dean Thomas.

So the so-called festive season was leaving her feeling pretty flat this year. She had no money, no job, and was living in her brother's tiny spare room because she couldn't afford to rent anywhere herself, and the only option was going home to Shell House, where Maman would sigh and make helpful remarks about alternative careers, and – infinitely worse – where her father could still not look at her without frowning, or on very bad days, getting up and leaving the room.

Living with Louis was a revelation. "Louis is the clever one," had been one of the refrains of her childhood, and Dominique, stuck between a beautiful and clever sister and a handsome and even cleverer brother had believed it. Louis and Rose, and to a lesser extent, Victoire, Lucy and Hugo, were the brains of the family, and the rest were also-rans in the academic department. Dominique, so hard-working and conscientious that her family teased her she should have been a Hufflepuff, got the grades she needed to become a curse breaker by sheer determination and a lot of late nights. Louis, as far as she knew, had sailed through his Hogwarts career without breaking a sweat, and got his clutch of Outstanding OWLs and NEWTs by innate genius. But she had not lived this closely with him since they were little children. The sole Gryffindor in her immediate family, Dominique had had to make do with cousins for family in her House, while Victoire and Louis did whatever it was that Ravenclaws did in their own tower.

Now living in his flat, Dominique found out that her brother, clever though he was, also worked damned hard. He had completed his Healer training by this time and was working – ironically enough – in the Spell Damage department at St Mungo's. As her brother, he had of course not taken any part in Dominique's routine care when she was an inpatient, but Dominique did remember, hazily and with a great deal of embarrassment, one night when the lingering effects of the curses which had rebounded on her had caused her to barricade herself in the bathroom of the Mary Lorenzo ward with a stolen wand and threats to "blow up this entire madhouse" if they didn't bring her hot chocolate, a copy of "Wuthering Heights" and a puppy immediately. The hot chocolate was procured, a junior intern was sent out into Muggle London for the book, but the puppy was an insurmountable problem. St Mungo's "no animals" policy was inflexible. Louis, as the Healer on call for the department, had been the one to explain this, calmly and concisely to his raving sister, and then – when she screamed obscenities at him in a polyglot mixture of French, English and Gobbledegook – to break down the door and administer the necessary calming spells and potions. He never alluded to the incident, professional as he was, but Dominique could never see him in his lime green Healer robes without feeling hot all over.

As well as his work at the hospital, Louis was working on a series of case studies for "The Healer's Gazette" (Dominique sincerely hoped she wasn't one of them) and studying for something called "A levels" in Muggle sciences and mathematics so that he could gain a Muggle degree in – Dominique couldn't even remember what. Something to do with Muggle medicines, which were a bit like potions sometimes, and sometimes weren't. Under her Aunt Hermione's direction in the Muggle Liaison office at the Ministry, Muggle-Magical cooperation was the latest thing, though no one – even Aunt Hermione herself – was quite sure how that squared with the Statute of Secrecy, which wasn't going to be repealed any time soon. Anyway, on three evenings a week, Louis would dress in his Muggle best and head out for evening classes at a Muggle school a mile or so from where they lived. The result of all this hard work on his part, was that Dominique had the flat to herself for a great deal of the time. Far too much time for someone with no job and a lot of regrets. Some days she didn't even get out of bed.

But there was no way she was getting out of Christmas Eve at Tante Gabrielle's or Christmas day at The Burrow. And even with all that had happened, she wouldn't have wanted to. Christmas reminded her of childhood, and right now, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight she could do with reverting to childhood. Everyone was very kind. No one asked how she was or if she had found another job yet. Even her father managed to smile at her a few times. But somehow the whole affair seemed tired and unexciting, and looking around at her siblings and cousins, Dominique could see that she wasn't the only one who felt that way.

She obviously looked more despondent than she realised though, because it was her that Fred chose to pick on when he made his Big Announcement. Fred made a Big Announcement every Christmas – last year it had been his engagement to Alice Longbottom (thank Merlin that that hadn't lasted) and the year before it had been his grand plans for a branch of the Wheeze in Lapland (Uncle George had vetoed that – at least until Fred could prove it might make a profit). People had been looking at Fred speculatively ever since lunch was finished – it wasn't like him to hold off so long, and they knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't let them down by not announcing something, however contrived it was.

Now, as the final notes of the Celestina Warbeck Tribute concert died away, and everyone except Granny and Lucy (who had adored Celestina Warbeck since she was three and could not be laughed out of it) gave a sigh of relief, Fred stood up and raised his hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, cousins, Roxie and friends," he announced in his best showman's manner. "I would like to announce my Grand Plan for the coming year. Grand enough to make even our dear Domi smile."

Dominique's plea: "Don't call me that!" was drowned under everyone else's groans. Uncle George had his head in his hands.

"However," Fred continued, apparently oblivious to his family's reaction. "in view of the advancing age of the parental generation, I am reserving this year's wisdom for those of us under the age of – how old are you Ted?"

"Sixteen?" replied Teddy hopefully, and to general laughter.

"He's thirty-two," put in his wife helpfully and Fred bowed to her.

"Thank you, Jennifer," he intoned. "Those of us under the age of thirty- three. All will be revealed chez Potter at precisely three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

He sat down abruptly and refused to enlighten them any further. But there was a gleam in his eye that Dominique knew only too well. Boxing Day at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's was as unavoidable as Christmas day at The Burrow, but as she exchanged a look with her best friend Molly and another with Uncle Charlie's American daughter Addison, in England for what she called "the holidays", Dominique knew they were all thinking the same thing, How on earth were they going to get out of this?


	5. Loneliest Bookstore pt1 by Wrexscar

The Loneliest Bookstore

 _ **Editor's Note: And now a story from Wrexscar, who has some really good stories. Serioiusly, the Teacher's Lounge is full of wonderful writers.**_

A.N. As I'm not a regular next gen writer I've leaned heavily on other writers from the Teachers Lounge. The works of Respitini, LittleBirds and Bad Mum are referenced and in some cases stolen.

X

Part one.

Fred Weasley was dead, he was not Fred Weasley. He was just named Fred Weasley, although not the one everyone thought of. Fred Weasley was white with ginger hair, Fred Weasley was a joker. Fred Weasley was fun to be around and universally missed. He was none of these things.

He just happened to share a name and everyone's expectations. Something he had done his best to thwart. At Hogwarts after much arguing he'd persuaded the Hat to place him in Ravenclaw. He didn't mind what house he was in, just not Gryffindor. He was quiet and studious with zero intentions of pulling a prank. Just like his uncle Percy they said.

That was the problem with being a Weasley even if you weren't acting like Fred you were being like someone else. Sporty and an out door type then you were Charlie. Effortless cool then you were like Bill. A rule follower then you were like Percy. Played a prank then you were like Fred or George, sporty with poor social skills then Ron. Female then you were like Ginny. There was no escaping the Weasley family. In school there was almost enough cousins to form their own house, so even when he escaped the comparisons to his name sake or uncles there was always a cousin on hand to be compared to. Not to mention being a twin. He did his best to avoid Roxie not because he disliked her but because Fred and George had been inseparable.

Another way he failed to be like his name sake was Uncle Fred along with his father had been driven, the joke shop was their dream, it was something they geared their whole lives towards. Fred had no idea what he wanted to do. Well that wasn't true, he had one idea, he wasn't going to work for WWW or any of its subsidiaries and there were many. The joke shop still existed, a side project now, kept because of the indulgence of his father, the thing that had made the real money was when one of the potion researchers had realised that a modified pepper up potion didn't just give muggles a better pick up than any energy drink on the market, it also cured the common cold. Red Bull had gone bust six months after they went to market. No the Weasley's were millionaires and famous ones too. War heroes, rich, famous and he along with Roxie was the heir to the empire. Joint heirs with Uncle Harry's children and Uncle Ron's too as he was classed as a full partner. Not that he minded, there was enough money to go around, in fact not spending the money was one of his missions in life. Every month his father paid an allowance into his vault and every month he avoided touching it.

It made him mistrusting of people, who was genuine and who was just looking to use him as a connection? He wanted to get away from it all, he wanted to meet people who didn't hear his name and assume they knew everything about him. These were the thoughts swirling in his mind along with too much booze that made him agree with Roxie's foolish idea.

Every day his W-mail inbox was full of links that Roxie had sent him. Pick your favourite pizza topping and we'll tell you where to go on holiday, plan you perfect holiday and we'll tell you what pizza topping to choose. Strangely enough those two quizzes didn't tie up. He'd lost a day changing answers on one to try and get them to both agree.  
It was a pointless waste of time but it summed up his life. Each day he drifted through, wasting time. He was currently working in a muggle warehouse, order picking. He had no muggle qualifications to get a better job and no desire to work in a world where his every action was compared to another member of his family. So he made just enough to eat and pay the rent on his grotty flat. While the money in his vault piled up along with the feeling there had to be more to life than this.

Of course his family was unavoidable at times like Christmas, Uncle Harry's party was obligatory and to be fair time with his cousins wasn't too bad now that they had all left school. They were the only ones who understood his issues. He glanced around, Albus definitely understood, named after two dead men not just one and he looked so much like his father he was more a 3D print than a son. That was if you ignored the eyeliner and cynical expression. Lilly Luna was wasted, again. At least this time it was just booze and not her more exotic vices. Calista and Hugo sat close together a less fiery version of Scorpius and Rose.  
As Fred glanced over at them he picked up Rose's voice. "Well fuck darling, how gauche."

The room was full of the drunks and the wastrels, no goods and deadbeats, his friends and family. They were all there, the extended Weasley family and partners and friends. Upstairs their parents were having their own party, downstairs alcohol flowed and conversations crossed and stuttered, no one seemed to have a career, or a direction. Rose steadfastly refused to talk about her time in Thailand. James although superficially a success had yet another boyfriend sell his secrets to a paper, he said he was swearing off men forever. Fred wasn't inclined to believe him this time any more than the last three times. He blearily focused on Roxie who had risen to her feet and was trying to get everyone's attention. Eventually Victoria used the time held manner of banging a knife against a wine glass. Being the oldest carried some weight and the room quieted.

"Alright bitches," Roxie began. Fred grimaced, that was a sure fire way to get the crowd on your side. "I've been taking stock recently and I don't like what I see. The press call us the mercury generation. Thank you for coming up with that one Al. I've got to admit I agree, shapeless hard to pin down but shiny. Unlike the olds upstairs I've done nothing with my life. I've drifted from thing to thing and gone from one fuck up to another, so I'm doing something remarkably stupid next year. Because it seems I'm incapable of making decisions I'm taking a quiz."

Fred felt his floo-phone vibrate.

"Yeah everyone, another Roxie WizzNet quiz. Only this time whatever it tells me to do, I'm doing. In 12 months from now I'll let you guys know if a quiz is better at making life decisions than I am, I'm figuring it can't be worse. The challenge is this, which of you guys have the courage to ditch the mediocre and join in?"

Fred knew he wanted to. His twin had as usual articulated his mood better than he could, he just didn't want to be the first to volunteer.

Hugo was the first to join Roxie and after a private whispered argument Calista joined him.

"So how we doing this Rocks?" Fred asked his own joining going unsaid.

"Those of you who aren't chicken shit can do the quiz. We write down our results and seal them in a box then we do our best to live the quiz. In twelve months' time we return unseal the box and we see who got closest to their task. We also report back on whether we make better decisions for ourselves or the quiz does.

Fred pulled out his phone and worked his way through. The magical questions morphed and twisted to his answers. He was asked what was his favourite city, as they always did. "I hate cities." The quiz marked the answer as done and moved him on. When he reached the last question he looked up, the room was mostly silent. It seemed the majority of them were playing the game. The rest looked on amazed. Roxie met his eye and gave him a wink before printing off her answer ,folding it and throwing it into the box.

Fred summited his final answer and waited an eternity for the quiz to tell him how he was going to be spending his year.

The results finally appeared. He read it through twice before giving his verdict on it.

"Fuck."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had taken a little time but to get it get it down as quickly as he had done and had taken a sacrifice of principals. Firstly he had to open his allowance vault. His father had been more than generous and his refusal to use the money before now meant that he had all the capital he needed to put his plans into action. He needed his new property warded and expanded and had managed to queue jump as a priority job. In fact Uncle Bill had come in personally to ward some rooms as magical only and expand them so that rather than the broom closet size they should have been they took up more floor space than the rest of the shop. The space expansion on the rest of the place was more subtle as he did expect the occasional muggle visitor.  
Still it was in mid-February that without any fanfare or opening party that the most remote bookshop on mainland Britain opened.

The remoteness was his hook for marketing. It made no difference to business. It didn't matter to wizards where you were based, one apparition point was as good as another. Few muggle bookstores survived by footfall sales and his was no different, he had an online presence on all the major platforms. Still the shop was set up as a shop even if it was really just a warehouse. Books sat on shelves as they did in every other bookshop. The radio was tuned to Classic FM in that non threatening way bookshops did. Comfy armchairs littered the shop and when he wasn't packing or serving the occasional witch or wizard who had popped in that was where he could be found, sitting on an armchair sipping at a coffee. He had the occasional muggle visitor. If you were the sort of person who considered Knoydart a holiday destination then a bookshop two miles from the nearest house and four from the nearest settlement that could be considered a hamlet was a must see. Although early March was not high season. The weather hadn't decided of it was still Winter or was ready to head into Spring. Yesterday Ladhar Bheinn had been obscured by a blizzard, today the sunlight shone off its Icey coat like it was wrapped in diamonds.

The door pushed open and a female voice called out in a soft brogue. "Hello, are you open?"

Fred jumped to his feet his book going one way and his coffee spilled over him. "Shit, sorry. Yes sorry, come in. Didn't mean to swear, sorry. The door should be open but it's so cold today."

He stepped round the corner of isle, trying to keep the wet and hot fabric of his trousers from touching his scalded legs to see a bundle of clothes with a pair of brown eyes enter the shop. Eventually from under a hood and a hat and scarf a face appeared.

Fred took a deep breath and looked away before she realised he was staring. She was never going to be a cover model with her lack of makeup and hair that had just come out from under a woolly hat but there was something in her fresh faced expression that made him immediately attracted to her then flustered because he was attracted to her and he had no idea of her name, was she single? Was she into guys? She unzipped her hugely padded green parka and pulled it off.

"Do you have somewhere to hang this? It's useful when the wind chill is in the minus numbers but it doubles my weight and I feel like the Michelin Man in it.

"Yes sorry, there's a coat rack behind the door." He stepped forward to take the coat from her.

"Are you always this quick to undress your customers?"

"What? Sorry, no it's just that um…" His fumbling apologies were cut short by a laugh like crystal.

"I'm sorry I'm winding you up." With a smile that caused her face to light up she handed Fred her coat, revealing a knitted Arran jumper. Fred had now spent enough time in Scotland to tell the difference between the real thing and the type sold to tourists. This along with her coat and boots although never having seen the inside of an outdoor pursuit shop were the real deal.

Once free from her coat she looked around the shop her gaze pausing on the print that was a quote from a Pratchett book explaining L space.

" _Essentially, all bookstores are potentially infinite in extent; gateways into literary hyperspace, a good bookshop is just a genteel blackhole that knows how to read."_

Fred shop really was bigger on the inside so he decided to obscure the truth with a little misdirection.

She gave Fred a smile and disappeared into the racks leavening his knees weak and his pants still wet from the spilt coffee. It would be the easiest thing in the world to get his wand and to dry himself but he couldn't be sure when the customer might come round the corner, hopefully with a stack of books to buy. Although the majority of his stock was in the sci-fi or fantasy genres along with film and tv tie ins. Not to mention the sub genres of steam punk and gothic horror. He did have some general fiction and a few maps and guides of the local area, although it was quite clear this woman wouldn't need a guide book, she had the look of a local who wasn't fazed at measuring snow fall in feet or taking windchill into account when dressing.

Fred headed back to his chair to tidy up his spilt drink for something to do rather that standing uncomfortably behind the counter hoping for a sale. He'd finally found a cloth to wipe the coffee of the chair when he heard a cough from the direction of the counter.

This wasn't the cough of a person with a sore throat, this cough said I've picked my book and I'd like some service or I'm going to contemplate shop lifting.

"Sorry, I'll be right there. " He jumped to his feet and stumbled slightly curious to see what she had chosen, most of his mail order clients were male by a ratio of nine to one.

When Fred got to the counter he saw she had picked ou Cherryh novel Devil to the Belt. He sighed slightly it was one he hadn't read and would now need to restock it if he ever wanted to.

"Have you read this one? Would you recommend it?" She stared into his eyes as she questioned him.

"Honestly it's not one I've read. I have read her Morgaine Trilogy and one whose name currently escapes me. She builds complex and deep worlds. If that's your sort of thing." Fred had the sudden feeling she was reading his soul and occulamcy shields wouldn't have helped him even if he'd bothered to learning them.

"So our mystery man really is a book seller."

"Um yes of course I am, see book, till, me selling you a book." He paused while he let what she'd said sink. "What do you mean by mystery man anyway?"

"This is Knoydart, There are just over a thousand souls who live here. Everyone knows me here, I'm Alison."

She paused and looked at him waiting. "I'm Fred." He finally said into the silence.

"Pleased to meet you Fred. As I said I'm Alison Robinson. Everyone knows me, they know my parents, Andrew and Caroline, They know what we do, my dad skippers a boat, mostly for tourists or divers. This is too small a place to have secrets, so any normal person who had been here for a little under two months would be a stranger but you Fred are a mysterious stranger. You're never seen in Inverie .You don't drink in the pub, you don't buy milk from the shop. You've only been seen on the ferry to Mallaig once and you never seem to post any of these books out, so you're something of a mystery.

She was right Fred had only taken the ferry once and found it too slow, not to mention nauseous. Since then he'd apparated everywhere. Why walk 4 miles to a small shop that didn't stock much when he could apparate to a supermarket. He used portkeys to deliver the books. It saved a fortune on postage it also meant books were delivered as soon as they were wrapped but in a community like this one it wasn't just strange it was impossible to live like he was. He wanted to bang his head against the table for his stupidity.

Alison's laughter stopped his impending self-flagellation. "You have the look of a child whose been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin."

Fred tried to think of something to say but wasn't getting much further than "um"

Alison leaned forward and put a finger to his lips to silence him. "Don't say a word. Any lie you come up with on the spur of the moment would be obvious and insult my intelligence. Besides it would be a bad idea to start our relationship off with lies."

Fred felt as if the earth was spinning too fast for him at the moment and he couldn't keep up with anything. Eventually his brain settled on the word. "Relationship?"

"Well it's a little premature but eventually you're going to get around to asking me out for a drink and I'll say yes. Whether it turns into anything more than friendly drinks remains to be seen but its got possibilities."

"It has?"

"Yes, you're easy on the eye, a nice guy because of the way you blushed when I accused you of undressing me, you obviously like me because of the way you keep watching me but you're again trying not to be creepy about it. So it has potential, you free tomorrow night."

"Yes."

"Then I'll see you in the pub in Inverie at seven." With that Alison placed a fiver on the desk for her book. Stepped to the door and pulled on her coat as she opened it. The sound of it closing brought Fred back to life

"I've got a date." He said into the empty air.

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He had dithered over what to wear but in the end the weather made his mind up for him. It was a clear night and so the temperature had turned to minus numbers as soon as the sun had set, which it was still doing early evening as they hadn't yet passed the spring equinox. Fred's mind was on things astronomical as the stars were bright as he walked the road from his shop with a bedroom in the back to the only settlement on the peninsular. It was four miles and although he had wrapped up warm even with his hands deep in his pockets his fingers were feeling the cold. He looked up at Sirius the brightest of the stars wondering how the rest of the family were doing with their challenges. Were any of them off on a date with someone who was far too smart for their own good. Fred knew he hadn't come up with a believable lie over not using the ferry or the postal service which was why he was walking on this cold night rather than just apparating to the outskirts of the village. He would have to be seen around a lot more, use the local services a lot more if he wanted the gossip about him to stop.

He approached the village, a line of low white house hugging one side of the road with the sea on the other side. The Old Forge was a thick walled white washed building like every other house on the street. He was early and he cautiously entered the bar. If Alison wasn't there he would wait outside, well until the risk of frostbite got to great.

The bar was quiet at five to seven midweek. Two bearded men sat against the bar on bar stools looking as if they were a permanent fixture and against the far wall at a small table sat Alison. He made his way over to her.

"Would you like a drink?" She clearly had half a pint of something in front of her but he couldn't buy himself a drink without asking first.

Once she'd declined and he'd bought himself a Guinness he sat down opposite her. She was dressed much as she had yesterday in practical warm clothes, he was glad to have gone with the same idea.

"So our mystery man has decided to come into the thriving heart of our community." Fred couldn't tell if her mocking tone was directed at him or herself.

"Well to meet you the walk in sub-zero temperatures was worth it. Other wise I'd just be sat in front of a fire reading my stock."

"Always remember you're the one who choose to move here, rather than grew up here."

"Oh no, I love it. I love that no one knows me and has no expectations from me." Fred surprised himself with his honesty. But he was happier to talk about himself than have Alison try to probe into how he shopped or sold goods without use the shops or ferry.

"Do you have a lot of expectations then?"

"I was named for my uncle, my father's twin. He was murdered before he was twenty. They were identical, Fred and George, able to finish each other's sentences and I bear his name. The thing is I'm more my mother's son than my fathers. Darker of skin and hair. Quieter , preferring the background. I've spent my life running from the expectations of my name. So I've ran here. Which I believe is the most remote place I can find."

Alison gasped at the appropriate point and made noises of sympathy as he spoke. She then spoke of herself and growing up in a tiny interdependent community. "We all know each other and depend on each other. The cottage lets might be in competition with the lodge or B and B's but we all own this place, we maintain the road, and the electricity is run communally. Which is why any new arrival causes a bit of a stir, especially one as mysterious as you."

Fred left her inference hanging. He wasn't going to lie but the truth was not a first date revelation. "So what do you do here? They don't seem a lot of job opportunities here."

"I have many jobs and none. I work with my dad on the boat, I'm first mate. He needs someone topside he can trust if he's leading a dive. Or if it's a full week tour of the islands we'll take turns either at the wheel or in the galley. My mums a translator and proof reader, so I do a little of that when the boats are quiet. Other than that I've been known to work behind the bar here or be a waitress at Dounne Lodge if they need extra hands. I'm a qualified mountain guide if you want to bag a Munro.  
Some kids hate it here and want to get out as soon as they're old enough. I've always loved it here. The only downside is the lack of men who don't smell of fish. Which is why I pounced on you, although there's not a lot of competition. Would you date an eighteen year old?"

"No definitely not."

"How about a thirty five year old?"

"I'm twenty seven." Fred replied cautiously "It's probably a silly prejudice but unlikely."

"Your dating field is limited to two women then and I'm one of them, the other is Shona Adams, she's Viking stock, blond and buxom. The only thing is she only goes after the guys who come up here shooting, in their store bought Barbers and with custom made Purdey guns. I doubt she'd look twice at a book store owner. She's looking for someone to take her away from all this."

Fred was happy to let that one pass he'd had enough of gold diggers in his life anyway. He got the impression it wouldn't make a difference to Alison but if things went sour could he trust her to keep his secrets? Still the son of millionaires was the least of the things he'd have to break to her.

"Then she has no idea of the amount of capital it takes to buy a house up here, pay the fees to change it from a domestic to business use and to buy the stock to sell. Do they sell Pepperade up here?"

She nodded and he bought a bottle from behind the bar.

He spun it on the table, caught it mid spin and pushed it towards Alison the rear label showing. "Who makes this stuff?" he asked.

She read the bottle. "I thought it was schweppes or someone like that but it's…" she squinted at the small print. All I can make out is WWW."

"That's them."

Alison looked up expectantly as he paused. Backing down now would be too strange and also guarantee there would be no second date, still if he told that might have the same effect, people got weird about money.

"The first W stands for Weasley, it's the company founded by my dad and Fred. It's the company I've spent my life avoiding. It's why up till this year I've spent my life doing dead end jobs, rather than being groomed to run the thing."

Alison's eyes opened wide as she took in this news, Fred waited for her response, waited for her to say the wrong thing. "So I guess the next rounds on you."

It was a weak joke but they both laughed and the tension eased.

"You say until this year."

"Since I left school, every month my dad put an amount into a saving account for me. It seemed hypercritical to live off it but not to work for it and I refused to go into the family business. This year however my sister challenged me to do something with my life. She's doing the same, we have the resources but are or rather we were spending our lives doing nothing. So I bit the bullet dug into my vault and decided to open the bookshop. I did run it past my dad, he said he thought it was a foolish idea but then everyone told him his business plan was too so I should go for it. I think he's just glad I'm doing something."

"Families can be complicated."

"That I can drink to, I have more than my share of Aunts and Uncles, cousins too and we all went to the same boarding school. Granny Weasley tries to keep us all close and her parties are usually a three line whip on attendance. I hated them at one point but now, well at least my cousins understand me better than most." Fred hoped that would do. Trying to explain the family dynamic would be difficult without having to explain that uncle Harry and aunt Ginny were the most famous couple in the country that Alison would never of heard of.

He took a sip of his Guinness and fought the urge to speak into the silence. The pub was starting to fill now, mostly men, nearly all bearded, with weather tanned faces and calloused hands of people who spent the majority of their time working out doors in harsh environments. It took Fred a moment to realise the man next to their table hadn't just drifted there as the pub filled but was standing there with purpose .

Alison looked up sighed and acknowledged the man. "Ritchie."

Fred looked up at the man, Ritchie was easily six foot six and you could have made two of Fred out of him.

"Alison." He paused and looked Fred over. "Don't get too attached to this one, she has a tendency to fuck you then dump you." He raised his glass in salute and moved away from their table to stand at the bar.

Fred let out a slow breath and let his grip on the wand he had palmed up his sleeve loosen. He looked at Alison who he couldn't tell if she was more embarrassed or angry.

"Well that was awkward but I can't imagine any of my exes saying anything flattering about me."

Alison flashed Fred a grateful smile. "Do you mind if we leave here?"

"Not at all." Fred downed his pint and rose to his feet manuvering his way through the bar with Alison close behind. As he stepped out into the air a thousand freezing needles tried to pierce his skin. "Bugger, sleeting again."

"Don't just stand there, my cars over there." Alison pushed past him and headed towards an old four wheel drive pick up.

Fred considered his chances with the freezing rain. Some of the pick ups panels were held on with bungee cords and duct tape also featured heavily in the cars makeup.

"It's not as bad as it looks, it drives fine."

He reluctantly got into the passenger side and Alison already had the engine running and heaters working full blast. She drove slowly across the single track that led towards Fred's shop. "The roads not the best, there's a fair chance of ice and while I'm nowhere close to the limit I have had a drink, cautious gets us home."

Fred leaned back in his seat, one hand clamped to the over head handle. He was not a fan of cars at the best of times. Having so many better magical options open to him. Driving at night on pot holed heavy roads were the only thing he could see was the white of the sleet driven by the wind in front of them was not what he classed as the best of times. It was only Alison's presence that had made him get in. He was self aware enough to know he was going to fall heavily for her. If they could navigate little things like him being a wizard.

The truck jerked to a shop and she pulled the handbrake on. "We're here."

Fred was suddenly looking Alison in the eyes as she turned towards him catching him staring. "Um yes, thanks. Would you, like to come in for coffee? I mean a drink, nothing else." He trailed off, he wasn't getting any reaction from her at first.

"Has anyone ever told you how smooth your pick up lines are?"

"Um, no, never. I don't think so anyway."

"There might be a reason for that." She reached out and affectionately touched his cheek taking away the sting from her words. "I wouldn't mind a tea if you have any."

"Of course." Fred led the way to his shop with attached living space. He didn't mind his living arrangement. He had enough chairs to sit on and fireplaces to sit in front of. The private areas of his shop were a small bedroom, kitchen and a combined toilet and shower room. He barely used the kitchen apart from making drinks. It was much easier to apparate somewhere for a take out, than to try to cook in his kitchen space.  
It also became quite apparent that his shop wasn't designed for entertaining. Alison sat on the armchair in front of his fire and when he returned with two mugs of tea the only space for him was on the edge of the stone hearth. It would be a matter of moments to transfigure a bookcase into a chair but that might be giving the game away.

Fred threw a log onto the fire and the heat from the embers soon had it ablaze.

"So I've given you a brief over view of the whole Weasley clan, do you have much in the way of family?"

"Not really. I'm an only child, my mum was an only child too. My dad has a younger brother who sounds a lot like your uncle Charlie was it? The outdoors type. Not ready to settle down yet."

"Well it's something of an open secret that Charlie has at least one child. He always travels to New York at the same time each year mid-September so a couple of us suspect that's for their birthday. If Granny Weasley ever finds out then I imagine I'll hear the screaming up hear. She's a bit old fashioned in her views. She has just about accepted the idea that some of my cousins are living with their partners without getting married but having a child and not being there all the time. "

"So I don't have to worry about any children in your past?" Alison asked watching him closely.

"No, I've never got that serious with someone. Most of my girlfriends have freaked out and started to act strange when they found out what my dad does." It was almost true, there was the added complication that any witch knew she was going to end up getting a full page spread written up by Skeeter if she was seen close to a member of the Weasley clan. Muggles like Alison brought their own problems.

He was aware she was staring at him. Fred sipped his tea and avoided saying anything.

"I'm wondering just how big you secret is. You casually mention that your father is at least a millionaire, You say that women act strange around you and I don't think that's just to do with the money."

Fred swallowed before he spoke he didn't want to start this sentence off with um. "It's really a third date kind of revelation although you're so smart I may have to bring it forward to the second date."

"That's good because no matter what Ritchie says I'm not going to sleep with you until you start being honest."

Fred had taken a mouthful of tea to hide his face behind as Alison started talking. This resulted in him breathing in his tea rather than swallowing. The choking fit that followed meant he dropped the rest of the tea over himself. "Fuck, shit, sorry." He gasped between coughs.

Alison was caught between laughing at him and helping him. Once his coughing had calmed down she leaned in. "You are so smooth."

Fred blushed at that.

"I'd best be going, you're need to get out of those clothes soon." She stepped up and paused. "I'm going travelling with my dad tomorrow, we might be gone for a day it might be a week. I'll call you when I get back and don't panic if it's longer. I can't resist a second date with someone so smooth.

Fred walked her out and locked the door behind her. As soon as the sounds of the pick up's engine had faded he stripped his wet clothes off he looked down at the burns on his chest and legs.

"Fuck."

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The burns were easily healed once he got his hand on his wand. What wasn't easily delt with was the problem of Alison herself. What should he tell her? Should he even tell her? Although he knew he'd have to come up with something. His lifestyle was an impossibility and he'd need to come up with some explanation. This thought was especially prevalent as he walked to the shop for some more milk. Apparating was so easy. Walking was leading to blisters. For the first time in his life he was tempted to learn to drive.

He had thought he was up to speed at living muggle. He'd spent the last two years living and working exclusively in a muggle surrounding but it was only when Alison had mentioned his lifestyle that he realised just how much he was wedded to doing things magically.

There was only one person he knew who he could talk to about this. How to blend the muggle and magical seamlessly, how to break the news to a woman that he wasn't all he seemed.

Pulling out his floo-phone he dashed off a quick W-mail to his Uncle Percy asking if he could pop over sometime soon.

Percy was as usual prompt with his reply and Fred apparated to his and Audrey's front door that evening. Audrey took some time opening the door and coughed as she did so. She was as usual dressed in casual black clothes which high lighted her now silver hair.

"Thank you for your patience I'm not as agile as I used to be."

"It's fine aunty." Fred stepped in close and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Kisses Fred? How deep in the shit are you?"

Fred laughed. Audrey always had the ability to get to the heart of any issue but always managed to make him laugh doing so.

"I might be neck deep but only if I can persuade someone to give me a piggy back."

"Come in, we've got some lasagne coming out of the oven in half an hour."

Fred raised one eyebrow. At the mention of food.

"Percy made it, don't worry it's perfectly edible."

Fred followed his aunt through to the kitchen were a table was set for three people. Fred had last seen his cousins at the party where he had taken the quiz. He couldn't recall if either Molly or Lucy had joined the insanity of the quiz or not. Many of his memories were hazy from that night including what the hell was he thinking?

He took a seat at the table and sipped at the wine Audrey had poured him. They made small talk until Percy joined them. It was he who served up the meal while Audrey sat opposite Fred.

Once Percy had taken his seat the conversation turned more serious. "Now young Frederick what can we do for you?" It had taken Fred some time possibly influenced by his dad but he found Percy did have a sense of humour, dry and self-deprecating, while he had been pompous in his early years he had much of that knocked out of him during the war years and what was left was finished off by Audrey.

"Can't you tell Perce? He's in love with a muggle girl and wants to know how one lets them in on the big secret."

Fred felt his jaw open of its own accord. How did Audrey read his mind so perfectly without magic?

"Percy leaned back in his chair giving Fred a long stare. "Ah the when is it permissible to break the Statute of Secrets talk? Do you know that some wizards never do? Well not until their child has demonstrated accidental magic for the first time. Personally I feel that's a little late. So how early in the relationship are you young Freddie?"

"I've had one date." Fred admitted embarrassingly. He quickly took a sip of wine to cover himself.

"Many might consider that a bit early." Percy was playing up his role as being overly pompous. "I'm sure the ministry has a leaflet somewhere?"

"Ah but Perce that's not all. Fred has already told me he's over his head in shit. There is more than just a girl involved."

"Hmmm I think what to do when submerged in excrement is a different leaflet. You had best tell me the whole sordid tale. Don't leave anything out."

Fred did leave out the part about the quiz but he told Percy and Audrey everything else. How he'd moved to this tiny community but carried on living magical and was now the centre of gossip. How Alison had confronted him as well as asking him out on a date. How it was clear he had some secret and she was going to hold back until he started being honest.

Percy stayed poker faced listening to his tale, Audrey was more animated. "Fred I thought you were smarter than that. You have fucked up so badly here I don't know where to start."

"Eloquent as always my dear. Where do we start? Firstly it depends how long you are going to devote to this current phase of your life. Not trying to be unkind but you have been rather flighty in your life choices so far. You know what you are running from but not to."

"It's not been a month yet but I'm enjoying the book shop and while its early days I think it might be profitable."

"Then you have to actually live in that community. Drink in the pub, buy food from the shop be seen on the ferry, after some time people will forget the fact you kept to yourself at first. The other choice is to pack up and move out of there. I doubt Harry would authorise the wholesale oblivination of an entire community over your thoughtlessness, hmm."

Fred felt scolded but Percy had said nothing worse to him than he had said to himself.

"Now as to his girl, I wasn't joking earlier most would say that a second date is far too soon. We were dating 3 months before I destroyed her view of the world."

"Fred." Audrey interjected. "Have you really thought this thing through? Firstly it's a shock to suddenly find that everything you thought you knew was wrong. I was cushioned by the fact I was in love with Percy by then. This girl will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her life. That's another thing Fred. Look at me."

Fred who had been squirming in his chair looked up at his aunt.

"I'm sixty years old Fred but if you stood me next to your grandmother who would you say is older?"

Fred went to speak but was cut off before his mouth even opened.

"Don't even think of fucking lying to me Fred. I'm sixty and I'll be lucky to make eighty, Too much booze, fags and drugs when I was younger. But all the young hacks did it and we thought we'd live for ever. If I make it to eighty I'll be thought of as old. If Percy dies before he gets to one twenty he'll be thought of as young."

Fred looked up to see Percy holding Audrey's hand as she spoke tears in his eyes.

"If you peruse this muggle girl, if you shake up her world and she falls for you,. If everything works out and you live happily ever after, know that your latter years will be alone. If I'd known I'd have spared Perc that."

"I did know and I don't regret a second."

There was an awkward pause as his aunt and uncle held hands and each other's gaze. Fred felt like an intruder in a private moment.

Finally Percy became aware that Fred was in the room. "Yes well, despite what Audrey says I feel the benefits out way anything else but be careful this isn't just a fling."

"Don't mess with her head just to get in her knickers." Audrey helpfully chimed in.

"So how did Percy break the news to you?"

"Well, I knew he had a secret. He never brought me home. Made lots of obvious excuses as to why not. To be honest I thought he had a wife and I was the bit on the side. Eventually he decided to bring me home. He was living in a place in York at the time. He pulled me into a hug and apparated me to his house. After that it's hard to disbelieve anything. I've seen him do all sorts of things since then, transfiguration is fancy but if your overly rational you'll try to explain it away. Being picked up and moved halfway across the country tends to cut through all the bullshit."

Percy shrugged. "I had decided the time was right to tell Audrey and was bringing her home. I just couldn't understand the ticket machine. Then I realised I had another option open to me."

Fred nodded. Apparition was hard to argue with although it involved a certain level of trust.

"Fred why don't I come up and sound her out." Audrey offered. "I can come and do an article on the most remote bookshop in the UK while there. I'm sure I can bump into your friend. Take some lodgings get some background, speak to your neighbours. I may even be able to sell the piece if I'm lucky."

"Are you sure? It's a long journey, it's almost a day from London to Mallaig by train, then the ferry, then you'll have to walk around the place."

"Fred I'm old, not dead. Besides I was going to have Percy side along me to Mallaig. If we get there the same time as a train no one will think anything of it."

Fred debated it quietly, on one hand his tendency to avoid Weasley help and be independent on the other he'd actually asked for help in this case and he did enjoy Audrey's company.

"It will be a pleasure to see you. Do you want me to arrange anything?"

"No Arranging things will be part of the fun. Besides if I actually do this as piece I'll need to know how easy it is to book places up there."

Fred nodding his agreement and he let the conversation move to other matters Audrey would visit and he could plan how to talk to Alison after that. Everything would be fine.


End file.
